


The Golden Women

by ideliagirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cersei being her usual awful self, F/M, Happy couples sticking together, Harsh Family Dynamics, Jaime had it with Cersei's shit a long time ago, Mentions of Infertility, Past Incest, Sansa becoming badass an owning it Lannister style, Strangers to Lovers, Tywin is beginning to be DONE with Cersei's shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideliagirl/pseuds/ideliagirl
Summary: From washwomen to handmaidens to ladies-in-waiting to healers to queen mothers and queens--the women who grace Casterly Rock make it what it is.But Sansa Stark is the Lady of the Rock. And she'll get the respect that is owed to that title.





	1. Put to the Test

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Sansa doesn't leave King's Landing after Joffrey's death. But Tyrion exonerates Sansa of any wrongdoing and Tywin allows it because he still wants Sansa as key to the North.
> 
> Tyrion really does take the Black as part of the deal Jaime makes with Tywin, and the suitable woman Jaime is to marry is Sansa--once Tywin has Tommen annul her marriage to Tyrion.
> 
> After a rocky start, Jaime and Sansa find themselves quite happy.
> 
>  

The laundry deep in the recesses of Casterly Rock was bustling, with every hand available working the morning of the expected arrival. There was both excitement and trepidation in the energy of the workers.

“I’s so excited for Queen Cersei to come. I ain’t never been in a castle that’s seen no queen visit.” Doraleen gushed as she wrung the laundry to remove the excess water. “Unless you count that there time Queen Talisa bunked down at Stone Hedge when I was workin’ for the Brackens. But nobody ever counts it. Even tho’ she was a queen, being married to King Robb n’all.”

Tamsin poured a bucket of soap into the trough and sighed in exasperation. “Doraleen, nobody wansta hear it.”

“Oh, I knows nobody in the Rock wansta hear ‘bout King Robb—”

“That’s not the problem we has wit’ya runnin’ your mouth, Doraleen.” Elba interrupted as she rubbed out the wash against the board. “But ya ain’t never been here whens Queen Cersei and Lord Tywin’s been here, has ya?”

Doraleen stopped her wringing. “Nah, I’s moved over from the Riverlands three year ago. And two year ago Lady Lannister was kind ‘nough to give me a jobs here.”

“And it’s been four years since Lord Tywin beens back here, and more than six since Queen Cersei set hers pampered-ass foot on Lannister land.” Elba piped up, pushing a sweaty lock from her brow. “But Queen or no, Lord or no—most who was ‘ere for they’s last visits wouldn’t mind if they’s stayed gone forever.”

“Also, ya might be confusin’ the current Lady’s kindness as somethin’ that all them Lannisters have.” Tamsin added, lifting a brow. “And that there’s somethin’ll get you in a heap a trouble.”

Elba stared at Doraleen with intensity. “Steer clear a’ Queen Cersei, and Lord Tywin, and that there whole group comin’ wit ‘em, if ya knows what’s good for ya.”

“But Lady Sansa, and Lord Jaime……they’s so good and—”

“Lady Sansa cut from a different cloth, ya see.” Elba cut her off. “And Lord Jaime may be the same cloth, but he cut different—or at least he has beens since he found Lady Sansa.”

Tamsin finally concluded, “It’s only been for a little whiles now that we’s had any kindness in Casterly Rock.”

 

 

 

 

Marine Lefford, lady-in-waiting to the Lady of Casterly Rock, walked through the Grand Hall, overseeing the final touches of the renovations and floral teams.

“You there?!” She called out to a workman standing on a ladder. “Your employer ensured the Lady that no bolts would be showing!” She pointed to a gilded rafter that was undergoing refurbishment.

He looked chagrinned, twisting the hammer in his hands. “Yes, milady, but ya’ see, if we’s gonna to get it done by the times they arrive this afternoon—"

“And Lady Lannister spoke to your employer just as of midnight last night, finalizing the details,” Marine began, lifting a brow. “including what she would _pay_ ……..and was assured there’d be _no visible bolts_. If the visibility of the bolts has now changed, then the Lady will have to assume the cost of the work has changed too.”

“Um….” the worker looked around the hall uncertainly.

“ _No visible bolts_.” Marine stated unwaveringly. She then turned to see a team of florists walking by, carrying an enormous floral arrangement. “Those aren’t peonies, are they?”

The florists stopped mid-walk, examining the bouquet which did indeed include three peonies at the top. “Well,” one of them began meekly. “We need ‘em to—"

Marine rolled her eyes. “Seven hells, why don’t we just bring a bunch of _bloody carnations_ into _the grandest castle_ in all of the Seven Kingdoms?!!! Lady Lannister expressly said, ‘ _no peonies’!”_

The florist gulped audibly. “My lady—”

Marine cleared her throat loudly so that even the noisiest of workers heard her, stopping their work and giving her their full attention.

“Perhaps you all think that because Lady Lannister is young, or because she came to us as a stranger to the Westerlands, or because her upbringing was simple and austere compared to some castles in this kingdom—that that means she’s easily swayed from her requests, or manipulated, or hoodwinked.” Marine casually flicked a piece of lint from her sleeve before leveling a glare at all in the room. “Well, let me assure you, nothing is further from the truth. And it would be a shame and a disservice to yourselves if you lost all further lucrative business with Casterly Rock simply because you chose not to do what you agreed to by _contract_.”

The florists and the handymen all looked to the floor in chagrin.

“I’m giving you an hour to correct what I’m sure were _accidental, innocent mistakes_ …..Lady Lannister will be inspecting everything at that time, and again this afternoon. I’d see to it that all orders are done on schedule, on the budget agreed to, and to _her exact specifications_.” Marine lifted a brow, holding out a hand to the florists still holding the bouquet. “Give me the offending peonies from this one. And remove all from the bouquets already in the Grand and Receiving Halls.”

 

 

 

 

Sansa’s eyes fluttered open to the golden light of a warm Westerlands morning. She nestled her cheek further into her sumptuous feather pillow and slid her bare legs along the smooth silk sheets.

But she let out a whimper at the sound of the loud, hammering bangs that had rung through the castle all morning.

“Thank the Gods!” Jaime’s voice piped up as he sat down on the edge of their bed. He leaned down to place a wet kiss to her jaw before pulling back to take another bite of his toast. “With you not waking even in the midst of all this bloody racket, I was worried the Stranger had taken you in the night.”

“Just not so worried over my death that it caused you to skip breaking your fast?” She giggled as she sat up in bed, wiping at a smudge of honey that his lips had left on her skin, then waving an admonishing finger at him. “And no eating in bed.”

“I wasn’t eating in bed, I was eating in our solar,” he kept the toast between his teeth as his one hand opened the bedroom windows to allow a gentle sea breeze to float in, then came back to stand before her. “and if you’d risen at a reasonable hour, I wouldn’t have had to leave the breakfast table inside it to come confirm that you still breathed.”

She pulled the covers back, putting both feet on the floor. “What time is it? I hope you didn’t let me sleep too late.” She reached for his toast.

He pulled it out of her reach with a teasing smirk. “No eating in bed, remember?”

She stood from the bed and pressed herself into his side, reaching again for the toast. He put it in her hands only after she brushed her lips to his in a good-morning kiss.

He hummed against her. “Morning, lovely wife.”

“Morning, rapscallion husband.” She finished the last bite of bread and looked at the sundial near the open window. “After _ten o’clock_?!!!” She stomped an angry foot, hastily throwing on her dressing robe. “Jaime! Why in the world did you let me sleep so late?!!”

Jaime heaved a deep exhale. “I know not the exact time you left your desk to come to our bed, but I know it was well after midnight.” He stopped her sudden flurry of movement by placing a gentle hand in the crook of her elbow. “You cannot push yourself so, Sansa. And I hate going to bed without you.”

She shook off his hand, sitting at the dressing table as she began viscously pulling a brush through her hair. “I somehow don’t think your dislike of going to bed alone entered into your father and sister’s minds when they gave us only _three_ _weeks warning_ before a royal party the likes of which Casterly Rock hasn’t seen in two decades descended upon us!”

He looked down at her pleadingly. “ _Sansa_.”

She threw the brush down to the table, uttering through clenched teeth, “I know! Damn it, _I know_!” She then folded her hands in her lap and took several deep breaths to calm the trembling of her fingers. Her sad eyes were filling with tears when she looked up at him. “It’s a test, Jaime.”

He walked to her and knelt at her feet, placing his golden hand on her knee. His voice was soft, but forceful. “So what if it is?”

“My whole life, no one ever told me I could rule nations, or inspire people through faith, or command armies. But they did tell me I could be a great lady, a fine wife, fine mother—and run a grand castle. That was all they ever told me I could be…….they weren’t being unkind, it’s just all they _usually_ tell high-born girls that they can ever be.” She placed a tender hand on his cheek, her fingers running over the scruff on his jaw, and smiled lovingly at him. “And when I was set aside as future Queen, there was nothing but cruelty and manipulation on Cersei and Tywin’s minds when they _forced me_ to marry someone _as_ _awful as you_ ………” her eyes twinkled as he teasingly bit the thumb of her hand cupping his face. “But I thought ‘ _at least I can be all those things I was told I could be_ ’, and then that way they wouldn’t break who I was.”

“Sansa, anyone who has lived near, or worked in, or done any business with Casterly Rock, in the last three years……..knows all the good things you’ve made happen in the Westerlands. They know all the betterments you’ve brought about.” He leaned in to place a kiss to her temple. “They sing songs praising you at the inn near Sarsfield— _'the red-maned lion with fangs instead of teeth’_ , their fair and kind Lady of the Rock, making their lives better.”

She bit back a smirk. “Are those songs any good?”

“One or two of them are pretty bawdy, but generally speaking………” he winked back at her. He then stayed silent a moment before brushing soft lips over the apple of her check, whispering into her skin, “You’ve made _my_ life better.”

“And you mine.” She told him seriously, pulling back to gaze at him with true adoration in her eyes. But she sighed again, looking around the room as if she were lost—as if she were once again the stranger in a strange land who’d arrived three years ago. “Anything in the castle that they find fault with, it will be their way of saying I’ve failed in yet another aspect of the only thing I was ever told I could do.” She looked down to her lap, one of her hands instinctively inching toward her still-empty belly. “And it’s not as if any improvement I institute here at the Rock can make up for the three years that they’ve spent waiting to hear that I’m with child—”

He interrupted her frequent lament. “So they’re going to find fault with something—with everything, probably—that’s _who they are_. It’s got nothing to do with you, or _with us_ …….let’s just accept that going into this visit.” He pulled her hand away from her belly and kissed her palm. “And if the only value they place on you is how well you keep house or what rests or doesn’t rest in your womb…..then they’re daft idiots who couldn’t begin to comprehend your worth, Sansa.” His eyes then grew wild and determined as he soothingly rubbed his thumb into her palm. “So fuck them, fuck them all. Fuck anyone who isn’t us.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I do so hate when you use profanity,” she chuckled lowly as she leaned in to nibble on his bottom lip. “but do so love when you use it to show your devotion to me.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that,” he stood from the floor and pulled her to stand with him. “I’ll have to start shouting profanities from our battlements every day at noon just to show the Rock how much I adore my wife.”

Her hand pushed on his chest, and she looked up at him with a wide grin on her face. “You’re a fool, Jaime Lannister.”

“Yes.” He kept hold of her hand, gazing at her adoringly. “But I can’t tell you how happy I am to now be _your_ fool.” He looked down at her, his gaze turning serious as he swept his lips over her knuckles. “Tell me what I can do…….to make your life easier today.”

“Can you make sure the stables are packing more hay and gathering more water to prepare for the arrival?” She sat down and picked up her brush again, this time running it through her hair in a much gentler manner. “And I hired some boys from the village to tend to the extra horses and litters coming this afternoon with the royal party……and they should be arriving at the gates by now. Can you make sure the stablemaster knows their assignments?”

He kissed the top of her head and went to do as she bid. “As you wish, Lady Lannister.”

A knock was heard through the door just as Jaime opened it. Marine Lefford stood before them, surprised at how quickly she was answered.

“Ah, Lady Marine,” Jaime smiled at her as he walked through the threshold of the door. “Let’s you and I work together to make sure our fine Lady Lannister doesn’t descend into a total nervous frenzy today, shall we?”

Marine nodded firmly, even though she was slightly startled by the request. “Of course, Lord Lannister.”

Sansa grinned after her husband before her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, looking at the hands of her lady-in-waiting. “Marine, those aren’t _peonies,_ are they?”

 

 

 

 

“Truly remarkable.” Sansa’s eyes sparkled while inspecting the reconstructed work on the balustrades overlooking the courtyard. She turned to the owner of the Lannisport masonry that had done the job and beamed at him. “I truly thought it would never look like the original stone. You and your workers have done a remarkable job.”

“Thank you, milady.” The man stood with his cap held to his chest. “We’s honored that you are pleased wit’ our work.”

“Most pleased.” She held out her hand and smiled genuinely when he lightly kissed it. “And no bolts showing on the rafters. I don’t know much about that type of craftsmanship, but I imagine that takes skill.”

The man chuckled slightly. “It wasna’ easy, milady. But I thinks I got some of the best workers in the Westerlands.” He ducked his head. “If I’s might brag on ‘em a bit.”

“Brag away. It’s well deserved.” Sansa walked back into the castle halls, nodding to the half dozen workmen standing with their backs to the walls. She narrowed her eyes at one in particular, tilting her head. “You had a cold the other day.”

The man’s eyes widened in fear at being remembered, before his still-scratchy voice answered, “Yes, milady.”

Sansa smiled sympathetically. “Nothing worse than a summer cold, my husband and I both had them a few moons back. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, milady.” He replied hoarsely over an obviously sore throat.

“But you have a wife……children? Who might come down with your ails?” Sansa kindly asked. The worker nodded in the affirmative, and Sansa turned to Marine Lefford, one step behind her. “Marine, tell Creylen that I’m sending a worker to see him.”

“Yes, my lady.” Marine answered.

Sansa then turned back to the man with the cold. “Our Maester is quite good, and he was able to brew a tonic that was the only thing which kept the whole of our household from coming down with our colds. You should take some bottles to your wife and children. Marine, you took the tonic and never did get sick, did you?”

“No, my lady. Stayed in the prime of health.” Marine answered sweetly, then eyed the worker. “Gather your things and I’ll have someone fetch you to take you down to the apothecary room.”

The man was moving immediately to take up his tools, and Sansa smiled to the rest of the workers. “The welcome feast for the royal party is tonight, but the leftovers will be gathered for the household staff to partake tomorrow. You will, of course, be included in those ranks if any of you can make it back to the castle.”

The owner chuckled happily and bowed in thanks. “Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

 

 

 

Later, Sansa walked down the castle halls with Marine in step beside her. “The restoration work was excellent, wouldn’t you agree, Marine?”

“I would, my lady.” Marine smiled at her.

“And the owner of the shop and his workers seemed very nice, didn’t they?” Sansa smiled back.

“They did indeed.”

Sansa smirked knowingly. “They tried to get away with showing the bolts, didn’t they?”

“That they did.” Marine chuckled back in solidarity.

“You can give the common people work, and praising words, and medicine, and grand food…….but the true way to get them to love you?” Sansa grinned back at her. “I learned this secret from my mother……..”

Marine chuckled again, bordering on a girlish giggle as she leaned in conspiratorially. “Tell me.”

“Never actually make them afraid of you.” Sansa tapped her fingertip to her own nose. “Just the threat of you.”

Marine’s head reared back in laughter this time. “And that’s where I came in?”

“You’ll be adequately rewarded.” Sansa winked, nodding along with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll miss you when you leave us next season.”

Marine stopped dead in her tracks, eyes full of trepidation. “Where am I going?”

“Well you can’t stay here.” Sansa told her seriously when she stopped too. “This is a fine job for the niece of Lady Alysanne Lefford……..but not for the wife of Ser Addam Marbrand.”

Marine’s jaw dropped, and she stuttered in amazement. “He—he asked—he asked for my hand?”

“Lady Alysanne gave her consent just this morning,” Sansa beamed at her with genuine happiness. “and according to the raven she sent, Ser Addam was most ardently excited to receive it.”

“I can’t believe…..” Marine grasped Sansa’s shoulder and pulled her into a grateful, joyous hug. “If you and Lord Lannister hadn’t floated the idea of the two of us……I’d thought Ser Addam was quite out of my reach.”

“And as you’re quite beautiful and much younger than him, he thought _you_ were quite out _his,_ too.” Sansa embraced her even tighter. “But we had to get Addam out of the City Watch and that snake’s pit of King’s Landing, and once Jaime and I got to talking—we knew only the best would do for Jaime’s dearest friend. And that, of course…….is you.”

“Lady Lannister,” Marine began, the title of respect still seeming odd to Sansa—coming from a lady a year old than she. “I can never begin to thank—"

Sansa cut her off, instead taking Marine’s hand to show _her_ gratitude. “And only the best would do for one of the dearest friends _I’ve_ had these last few years. And the best is what Addam will be for you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I can feel the tension coming off you in waves, milady.” Deandre, the grandmotherly woman—who’d lived in Casterly Rock her whole life—that Sansa had chosen to be her handmaiden, said as she styled her hair late that afternoon. “Your shoulders seem to be locked in place. Just breathe.”

“I can’t help it.” Sansa responded, sitting at her dressing table as she tried to do what the older woman said. “You remember what she’s like.”

Deandre sighed heavily. “Aye, I do. Cersei was a superior, spiteful thing even when she was a babe.” She put Sansa’s brush down. “Can’t imagine she’s gotten any better now that she really _is_ the queen of everybody.”

“Actually,” Sansa furrowed her brow as she stood. “that should be _Margaery._ ”

“Aye, should be.” Deandre snorted, moving behind Sansa to lace up her bodice. “but trust me, in Cersei’s eyes and most everybody else’s down in the stinkhole they call the Red Keep……..Margaery ain’t no true queen until she pushes out a little prince.”

Sansa winced slightly at Deandre unknowingly and inadvertently reminding her of the many who believed that until she birthed a Lannister heir, Sansa was not the true Lady of Casterly Rock. “Margaery has been working with a special healer from Essos, to try to become with child.” Sansa turned to face her. “She’s bringing her in the royal party………so that she can examine me.”

“The healer is a _she_? Well, ain’t that progressive.” Deandre’s face fell in disbelief. “But Tommen’s not but a wee boy…..I can’t imagine the King and Queen’s troubles are anything more than that.” She placed a soft, comforting hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “And even though you’ve become a fine lady, doing this castle proud, your body’s barely more than a wee girl itself.”

“Even not counting the time at the beginning of our marriage, when Jaime and I didn’t trust each other, didn’t love each other, and didn’t lay with each other……..it’s still been years now that we’ve truly been man and wife.” Sansa’s eyes lined with tears. “It should have happened by now.”

“I know what the kingdom expects of you, what House Lannister expects of you.” Deandre looked at her sympathetically as she slid several gold rings on Sansa’s fingers. “but has Lord Jaime been tellin’ you bad things—”

Sansa cut her off. “No, he’s been kind and patient, as he has been for some time now. With how fearful I was when our marriage began, I truly now could not have prayed for a better husband.” She brushed her hand over her wet cheek. “But my mother had five easy pregnancies, five easy births, and five healthy children…….I don’t understand how it’s not happening for me.”

“My mother had seven children, but I had just the one.” Deandre chuckled, a tiny and sweet smile on her face. “Had to wait forever for her, too. But once she finally showed up, Seven gods, she was worth it.”

Sansa gave a low, sad sigh. “I feel so—”

What Sansa would have said was cut off by a knock on the bedchamber door. “Sansa, sweetling?” Jaime’s voice called through. “The royal party has been spotted from the lookout. We should head down to the courtyard if we’re to greet them.”

Sansa took a fortifying breath. “Come in!”

When Jaime walked into the room, Deandre smiled and patted Sansa’s arm as she turned to him. “Our Lady Sansa looks very fine, doesn’t she, Lord Jaime?”

Jaime’s mouth opened slightly in awe and his eyes shone with genuine reverence as he gazed at Sansa in her silver and gold silk gown, with her hair dressed not in King’s Landing court-style, but the intricate braids and flowing hair of the North. “Fine is not a strong enough word to describe my wife even on ordinary days, Deandre. And today…….well, today she……..”

“You’ve struck him dumb, milady!” Deandre chuckled kindly at her Lord, then curtseyed to both. “I’ll take my leave now, Lady Sansa?”

“Yes, Deandre.” Sansa nodded in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Jaime smiled at the handmaiden as she swept past him to leave the room. “Thank you, Deandre.”

When the door was again closed, Sansa nodded to the box that Jaime had entered the room carrying. “What’s that?”

He smirked as he lifted the box to where it was level with Sansa’s eyes. “A gift for you, of course.”

“Jaime.” She grinned, but shyly shook her head. “Your father might already reprimand you for allowing me to spend so much of your family’s money on castle improvements.”

“ _Our_ family’s money,” he corrected her. “meaning it was already yours too and you can do with it what you like.”

She examined the box closely and recognized the name on it as a prominent Lannisport jeweler. She quirked a teasing brow. “Does your ego have a need to drip me in Lannister jewels to ensure that I’m not outshone by the royal party?”

“You could be dressed in scullery rags and still outshine every one of them.” He leaned in to press a kiss to her hairline. “But I did get you something special to wear for the feast tonight.”

Jaime leaned back again and gestured with his chin for her to open the box. When she did, she discovered that resting in it was a tiara made of diamonds and gold, with the diamonds taking the form of _snowflakes_ —five of them—standing upright with the base of the tiara made to nestle in her hair.

Sansa gasped in awe. “Jaime.”

He placed the box down on the dressing table and took her hand. “I know my father forbade any images of the direwolf here at the Rock, but you are a child of the North.” He looked straight into her still-dazed eyes. “Even if they sit tonight in the Grand Hall that _you_ worked to refurbish, and still try to pass judgement on you, let’s show them that we don’t care what they think. Sansa…….be _proud_ of who you are. I know _I’m_ proud of you.”

She beamed at him, then leaned in to give him a long, thorough kiss that they both felt to the tips of their toes. She pulled back slowly, looking over to the open box. “Five snowflakes.”

His eyes slid shut. “For the family you lost—Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn……Robb, Bran, Rickon.”

She touched his face tenderly, so that his eyes opened again. “But not Jon Snow.” She smirked knowingly. “And _not_ Arya.”

“No.” He shared in their same, secret smile and put his lips next to her ear, whispering conspiratorially, “We’ll talk more about that when the castle’s gone to sleep.”

“ _Lord Lannister_!” A guard shouted through the door. “ _I’ve been tasked to tell you the royal party is very near to the Lion’s Mouth_!”

“Let’s go, husband.” Sansa placed a soft, quick peck on his lips. “We can’t keep the viscous horde waiting.”

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa and Jaime were standing tall and proud when the large riding party and the several wheelhouses arrived in the interior courtyard of the Rock. The trumpeters announced the King’s arrival and the grandest wheelhouse was opened for Tommen to step out. As Jaime sunk to his knees, he glanced up, expecting Tommen to immediately walk forward, but instead the King stood by and held out a hand to help Margaery step out as well.

While curtsying low, Sansa gave a thought to the kind of character that small gesture showed in the young king. There were, even in travel parties, plenty of men who could have helped the queen emerge from the wheelhouse. But Tommen did it himself. The familiarity with which Margaery took his hand showed it was not an uncommon occurrence, but the smile on her face showed it was still met with gratitude.

Tommen and Margaery walked to Sansa and Jaime. “Your Grace, Your Grace.” Jaime spoke to them both.

“Rise, Uncle.” Tommen smiled brightly. He looked to Sansa. “You as well, dear Aunt.”

Jaime and Sansa rose to their full heights, Jaime’s eyes widening when he saw that Tommen was almost as tall as he was. “King Tommen.” Jamie grinned, lovingly grasping Tommen’s upper arm. “You’ve grown.”

Tommen’s smile widened. “You look different as well, Uncle Jaime.” His smile never faltered as he looked over to Sansa. “Happier.”

“Well,” Jaime chuckled softly. “we _are_ quite happy here at the Rock.”

“You’ve done well here.” Tommen nodded to him. “The scouts you sent out that found the untapped veins of gold……House Lannister and the Crown are indebted to you. I wish you could have responded with a way that I can reward you.”

Jaime looked over at Sansa in gratitude. “It’s unnecessary, My King. We are already quite rewarded.”

“Lady Lannister.” Margaery finally spoke as she beamed at Sansa with a playful twinkle in her eye, holding out her hand.

Sansa kissed the hand. “My Queen.”

“How wonderful it is to see you.” Margaery grinned. “You look as though you are flourishing here at the Rock.”

“The Gods have truly blessed me.” Sansa replied honestly with a smile.

“Old and New.” Margaery winked at her.

“We have our finest rooms prepared for you and selected our best servants to help you after your long journey. Baths, meals, rest—anything you need before the feast tonight.” Jaime said, holding out his arm to guide them inside. He gestured for several footmen to come forward. “Take their Graces to their chambers and attend to them with anything they need.”

Tommen and Margaery moved forward into the castle as Tywin and Cersei stepped forward. Beside him, he heard his wife take an audible deep breath.

“Father.” Jaime bowed his head to his father. He did not greet his sister.

“Lord Tywin.” Sansa curtseyed to him. Then standing again, repeated the gesture to Cersei. “Queen Mother.”

“Come now, sister.” Cersei gave her a forced smile which threatened to break the iciness of her face. “Such formalities are not needed.”

“You don’t greet the Lady of Casterly Rock as _Lady Lannister_?” Tywin spoke up in admonishment, his eyes shooting a sideways glance of disapproval at Cersei. “It seems as though my good-daughter’s manners are better than my daughter’s.”

Cersei looked as if she’s swallowed poison. “Forgive me, Father.” She still said nothing more to Sansa, instead turning her attention to Jaime. “Lord Lannister.”

Jaime clenched his eyes shut, letting out a harsh breath through his nose. When he opened them again, he spoke only to his father. “We have the finest guest rooms prepared for you.”

Tywin began walking into the castle, with Jaime taking Sansa’s arm and walking a mere step behind. Cersei ambled behind them, a bemused and sarcastic smile on her face.

When Cersei spoke, it was with cruel humor laced in her superior tone. “Not the _Lord’s Chamber_? After our father having just spoken of manners, it would seem—”

Tywin stopped and turned harshly. “Are you quite done?” He glared at Cersei before raising his voice. “When I sent your brother and his new wife home to Casterly Rock all those years ago, it was not just as a placeholder! He would take my place as Lord of the Rock while I remained as Hand of the King to fix _the enormous mess_ the Crown had found itself in!” He gestured his head to Jaime and Sansa. “I would not expect your brother and his wife to vacate the chambers they have settled comfortably in, just to accommodate me!”

Cersei’s face was implacable. And without invitation to do so, she pushed past Jaime to walk ahead of the other three.

Jaime cleared his throat as the three of them walked further down the halls. “If you notice, we’ve recently made some improvements to the castle. My dear wife oversaw the work.” He nodded to Sansa to take over speaking.

She did, beginning meekly. “Some of the work was cosmetic, Lord Tywin. But some of it was foundational. The Rock is such a beautiful, majestic place, and the idea of any of it falling into disrepair…..”

Tywin gave what Sansa would call a smile—if someone like Tywin Lannister was capable of such a thing. “I’d had plans to do some work to the castle years ago.” He furiously glared at Cersei’s back. “But the outbreak of war has a way of delaying things like that. And of draining our coffers of the funds needed to make such renovations.”

“With tapping into the new veins of gold, our coffers were sufficiently replenished to again take on such work.” Jaime added, smiling affirmatively.

Sansa looked up as they walked into the Grand Hall. “I worked very closely with the heads of the masonry and the carpenters. And spared no expense in bringing the castle back to it necessary grandeur…..without, I believe, foraying into extravagance.”

Tywin looked up to the great domed ceiling. “You are a Lannister now, the Lady of Casterly Rock. If you cannot be afforded a little bit of extravagance to showcase the prominence of our house…..then no one can.”

“Yes, Lord Tywin.” Sansa nodded, unsure of what else to say.

Tywin stopped in front of a large windowed alcove that looked upon the crashing waves of the Sunset Sea. His demeanor changed suddenly into quiet, contemplative and wistful. When he spoke again, it was with a much softer voice. “I would, of course, like a thorough tour of the improvements made. But—it seems to be fine work, Lady Sansa.”

Tywin walked away, leaving an amazed Jaime and Sansa standing in front of the tall, grand windows. Jaime gave Sansa a gleaming, proud smile. Neither had noticed, however, that Cersei had stopped a few feet ahead of them and now walked back to them to invade their momentary happiness.

“You’ll have to forgive my father, Sansa.” Cersei said in a sad voice that both Sansa and Jaime saw for the act it was. “He’s feeling quite sentimental.”

“Cersei.” Jaime spoke in warning through clenched teeth, knowing where his sister’s spiteful mind was going.

Cersei placed a hand on Sansa’s shoulder, which immediately caused the younger woman to flinch. “You see, this was a favorite alcove of our mother’s.” Cersei eyes twinkled with a vile gleam. “She would sit here, looking out onto the sea. It was her favorite place to sing to us when we were babes. She would hold us in her arms—”

“Cersei.” Jaime spoke again, even harsher.

“—and rock us in our cradles.” Cersei finished as if she’d not heard her brother, a cruel smile on her lips. “That cradle is a family heirloom, but it must be buried away in storage, seeing as you have no use for it.” She gave the alcove one last look, before turning again. “I imagine the alcove doesn’t get much use, either.”

Jaime spoke up loudly, stopping his sister’s trek forward. “Actually, we use it quite a bit.” He quirked a brow. “It’s where we sit as man and wife, making important decisions together, and listening to each other’s valued opinions. Surely you must have had a special place when you did all those things _with Robert?_ ” He patted Sansa’s hand where it laid, looped in his arm. He then smirked coldly at Cersei. “Oh wait, come to think of it……….”

His cold smirk continued as he guided Sansa away, his eyes shooting daggers at the Queen Mother.

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa approached the door of the esteemed guest bedchamber. Inside there was a flurry of activity as both the servants the Queen brought with her and the servants of Casterly Rock worked to unpack Margaery’s things and settle her into the castle.

Sansa made herself more visible. “Your Grace.”

Margaery had been staring out her grand balcony windows onto the sea below. She turned at the sound of Sansa’s voice, an enormous grin on her face. “Dearest Aunt.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, My Queen?” Sansa curtsied.

Margaery spoke to the half dozen servants around her. “Lady Lannister and I wish to speak, please leave us.”

The servants hopped to leave and were gone in five seconds.

Sansa walked further into the bedchamber. “Please let me know if you need anything while staying with us. All of Casterly Rock is at your disposal. We have a fine seamstress, and Maester Creylen is very good. We also have unfettered access to—”

“Sansa, stop.” Margaery walked to her and hugged her warmly. She then gestured to the edge of the bed. “Sit and talk with me a bit.”

Sansa smiled and sat along with Margaery. “How are you?”

Margaery let out a breath. “I’m proud to be queen. And I adore Tommen—such a sweet and gallant young king.” She looked to her lap in a way that told Sansa it was not just the long journey that tired the Tyrell rose. “But it’s nice to be away from the capital for a while.”

“I agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly.” Sansa laughed lightly.

“Your letters have been a welcome respite, I thank you for them.” Margaery placed a friendly hand on top of Sansa’s. A thoughtful look came over her face. “You’ve……..you’ve grown _kind_. You were always _sweet,_ don’t misunderstand me, but now you’re……very kind.”

“I know I wasn’t always.” Sansa clenched her eyes shut. “It’s painful to me to think that the last view most of my family had of me was as a spoiled, selfish, snobbish—”

“You were a child.” Margaery kindly interrupted her train of thought. “Yes, perhaps a spoiled, selfish, snobbish child—but a child nonetheless. And I’m sure your family knew, even in the midst of that childishness, that you would not always be that way.” She smiled sadly at her friend. “And in spite of how happy I am with the kind woman you’ve become……..I’m very sorry that childhood was taken away from you in such a harsh way.”

“Thank you.” Sansa smiled back. “We all have to make the best of our situations. No matter how jarring they may seem at first.”

They were both silent for several long moments.

“The healer is with me. She’s interested to meet with you.” Margaery leaned closer to whisper. “Does Lord Jaime know that—”

“No.” Sansa immediately shook her head. “I’d like to keep that from him for as long as I can.”

Margaery’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I imagine that will be fine at first. But if she can find no reason that _you_ should be unable to bear children, then she’ll want to examine Lord Jaime as well to see if the problem lies with him.”

Sansa’s mind debated telling her that she _knew_ Jaime could conceive children, as he _already had three times_ , but that confirmation of a long-whispered rumor would do nothing but cause more problems. So, she decided to change the subject. “You said she’s foreign, where is she from exactly?”

“Yi Ti.” Margaery responded with an excited gleam.

“Dear Gods.” Sansa chuckled breathily. “I never thought in my life that I’d meet someone from there.”

“Sidhari seems exotic and scary at first, but she’s really not.”

“How did you find her?”

“Loras found her.” Margaery gives a playful grimace. “She was actually working at a brothel he visited in Lys.”

Sansa eyes widened, scandalized. “Dear Gods. Does anyone is the Red Keep know that?”

“The Master of Whispers knows, I have no doubt. But as long as it may help produce an heir, I think he’ll remain quiet. We’ve concocted a bit of a story for her past and for her presence in the Keep.” Margaery put her index finger to her lips. “So, mum is the word.”

Sansa nodded. “I promise.”

“Of course, at the brothel she was employed to _stop_ the girls from conceiving. But she’d had plenty of experience working with noble women _to help them_ conceive.”

Sansa took several moments to get up her nerve. “Has she been able to help you?”

“Not as of yet.” Margaery looked to her lap a little despondently. “But I’m hopeful.”

“Is the examination……” Sansa bit her lip. “unpleasant?”

“Well, I didn’t find it any more unpleasant than the Maester’s examination—but I have Pycelle examining me, and nothing could be more unpleasant for me than that.” Margaery gave an exaggerated shiver, before carefully beginning again. “Please don’t be offended, I’m not trying to say you’re immature or naïve, but…… _you_ might find _the questions_ she asks more uncomfortable than the examination itself. They are a bit…….intrusive.”

Sansa laughed slightly. “Considering how much you had to tell me about what goes on between a man and wife when my first unconsummated marriage was annulled, and my second marriage was announced, I don’t take offense to you thinking I’d be uncomfortable talking about such things.” The apples of Sansa’s cheeks grew pink despite her will not to blush. “But I think you’d be surprised how much Jaime and I have learned together in that regard.”

Margaery lifted both brows and a sly smirk grew on her lips. “Oh, reeeaaallly?

“Oh, be quiet.” Sansa giggled as she playfully nudged her friend’s shoulder.

The Queen laughed loudly, pulling Sansa in for another hug. “Oh, it’s so good to be amongst friends. I have my ladies at court, but sometimes they can be terribly vapid. And with Grandmother gone back to Highgarden, I only ever hear from her in our weekly ravens.”

“And how is Lady Olenna?” Sansa pulled back with a smile.

Margaery quirked her brow. “She’s finding different ways to occupy her time. She’s taken up embroidery.” She then looked directly into Sansa’s eyes, her tone suddenly becoming very serious. “She’s learning from a very _tall_ lady with _sapphire_ -blue eyes………”

Sansa took in a trembling breath, hopeful of what Margaery’s words meant.

“And grandmother was having a very hard time learning the craft………” Margaery leaned in close to whisper in Sansa’s ear. “……until the tall lady found the right _needle_.”

Sansa found herself glad that she was sitting down, or else she surely would have fainted to the floor.

Finally. _Arya._

 

 

 

 


	2. In the Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues at the Rock. But Sansa is given hope that life can also continue at Winterfell.
> 
> And a revelation threatens to shake the very foundation of the Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and to some extent this whole fic) delves into infertility and the raw emotions that it can create. 
> 
> If this is a trigger, well, I still hope you read, but please be forewarned.

**Three Years Past**

_“The sword is yours.” Jaime nodded to it as he balanced the blade on his golden hand. “It was reforged from Ned Stark’s sword. You’ll use it to find and protect Ned Stark’s daughter.”_

_“There’s still a chance to find Arya.” Brienne replied, fingers sliding over the blade. “But what of Sansa?”_

_“Yes,” Jaime sighed and sheathed the sword again. “Sansa.”_

_“King’s Landing isn’t safe for her.” Brienne stated firmly. “Not that it ever was, but now it’s imperative that—”_

_“Even with Father exonerating Sansa of Joffrey’s death,” Jaime interrupted, rubbing over the lines now permanently etched on his forehead. “Cersei still wants her head on a spike. Yes, I know.”_

_Brienne cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips. “So tell me why I can’t just get her and take her out of the city right now.”_

_“Because you won’t get far!!” Jaime shouted back. “Like it or not, my father is actually **protecting her** , and it’s the only thing keeping her alive.”_

_Brienne’s eyes narrowed in fury. “You swore to get her someplace safe.”_

_“And I will.” Jaime sunk down to the nearest chair. “But you won’t like it.”_

_“There are many things about this that I don’t like.” Brienne let out a humorless laugh._

_Jaime ran his good hand over his face in frustration. “Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion will be annulled.”_

_“I figured as much.”_

_Jaime looked out the window. “I made a deal with my father—to save Tyrion’s life. I’m to leave the Kingsguard and return to Casterly Rock to take my place as Lord and Warden of the West.”_

_Brienne lifted both her brows. “And should I feel happy or sorry for you?”_

_“Tommen may annul Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion,” Jaime winced, then looked to his lap. “but Father won’t give up his key to the North.”_

_Brienne’s face smoothed over with disbelief when she realized what he was saying. “Your plan to honor your vow to Lady Catelyn is to **marry her daughter**?!!!!”_

_“Sansa would have protection as a Lannister.” Jaime stood from his chair. “And can you think of any place safer than Casterly Rock?!!”_

_“I somehow don’t think that’s what Lady Catelyn had in mind!” Brienne shouted at him. “Sansa belongs at home!”_

_“Yes well, her **home** belongs to the Boltons now……..” Jaime sneered back at her. “I know I’m not the best man in the world, but I’d have to be better than those people!”_

_“Ser Jaime…….” Brienne began again, much softer._

_“I will not harm her. I swear to you.” Jaime stated determinedly. “And neither will I allow any harm to come to her. It is not ideal—but it is the only way I can save my brother. And keep my vow to Catelyn Stark.”_

_“She may have been forced into adulthood by the tragedies she’s suffered in these last years,” Brienne shook her head in sad acceptance of the situation. “but she’s still in some ways just a child.”_

_Jaime stood tall, looking Brienne directly in the eye. “Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. I’ll cloak her and put her under my protection, as I swore to keep her safe—but that doesn’t mean I’ll truly take her as my wife.”_

 

 

The Grand Hall was bustling with jubilant music and dancing guests, and servants attending to the many dining on the great feast. Sansa made sure the musicians played ballads originating in the Westerlands, and though there were pheasants and venison on the banquet tables, most of the feast consisted of fresh fish and seafood caught in the nets of Lannisport fisherman just that morning.

Again, Tywin Lannister looked as if he was _almost_ enjoying himself—sitting back at the High Table with a relaxed expression on his usually dour face as he watched King Tommen and Queen Margaery swing around with the other dancers in the Grand Hall. He had partaken of two whole plates of fish and oysters.

The Queen Mother sat next to him looking exceptionally bored and extremely put-out. She ate barely three bites on her plate, and instead seemed determined to drain all the wine jugs on the table.

The Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock sat on the other side of Tommen and Margaery’s vacant seats. Jaime gazed adoringly at his wife. She was smiling brightly while draped in a red and gold silk gown with her snowflake tiara shining radiantly in the candlelight where it rested in her pillow of gleaming copper hair.

He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “I love you.”

She looked over at him, surprised by the public affection. But then she beamed happily. “And I love you.” She tenderly touched his face. “More than I ever thought possible.”

“To love a _Lannister_?” He joked with a twinkle in his eyes.

She gazed back at him, only seriousness in hers. “To love anyone.”

“Jaime!” Tywin loudly stated, shocking both his son and good-daughter out of their intimate bubble. “Why are you not dancing with your Lady?”

“Ah,” Jaime swallowed audibly. “It’s a Lavolta…….I’d need both my hands, Father.”

“Well,” Tywin shook his head. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

“I don’t really think—"

Jaime was cut off as Tywin stood suddenly and pounded his fist on the table, simultaneously shouting out to the musicians. “ _You there_?!!”

The entire hall descended into silence, with all the dancers and diners immediately freezing at the booming sound of the Old Lion’s voice.

“Play something else!” Tywin demanded loudly. “So that the Lord and Lady of the Rock might join His and Her Grace in the revelry of the dancing!” Tywin held out his arm, gesturing to the dance floor in an unspoken command.

Jaime stood and gave Sansa his good hand, helping her out of her seat. All the dancers stayed still until the Lord and Lady came to the middle of the floor. Tommen and Margaery stood in the middle as well, and after Jaime and Sansa bowed to them, the musicians began a new song.

Jaime put his golden hand in the small of her back and twined his good hand with hers. He leaned in close to her ear. “Sorry about that.”

She giggled. “Of the two of us, I’m the one who _likes_ dancing, Jaime.” She leaned her head back to smile at him before glancing over to the High Table. “I don’t want to get my hopes up……..but your father almost seems to be enjoying himself.”

“I think that might be overstating things.” Jaime chuckled low in his chest. “At most he’s just…..less sullen than he usually is.”

They danced close to each other for the first few verses, moving around the other dancers in circles. Finally, Sansa nuzzled her face into the crook of Jaime’s neck, her lips close to his ear.

“Brienne has finally found Arya.”

A loud croak came from Jaime’s mouth and he missed a step of the dance, losing his balance while having to lean on his wife. Recovering, he looked around the room before whispering, “And you tell me this in the Grand Hall of Casterly Rock, surrounded by all these people?”

“I’m sorry,” she laid her forehead to his collarbone. “but the words have been rising up in my throat ever since Margaery told me this afternoon. I just couldn’t keep them inside any longer.”

“Margaery?” Jaime whispered in shock. “How the bloody hell would _Margaery_ —”

“Lady Olenna.” Sansa looked at him, nodding once. “Say what you might about the Tyrells, but they were loyal to Renly in his life. Brienne was, too—ardently loyal to him. And shared loyalty can allow for opportunities of solidarity.” She smiled at a nearby dancer and continued on, acting as if they were talking about something as innocuous as the weather. “Brienne can’t get messages directly to me here at the Rock, so a long time ago Margaery and I worked out that if she needed to, Brienne could contact Highgarden.”

“I don’t particularly like that, Sansa.” Jaime pulled her in closer to him. “The Tyrells might have been loyal to Renly, but they’re now irrevocably tied to the Crown.”

“And you’re saying finding my little sister will bring down the Crown?” Sansa chuckled in his ear. “Arya was always ferocious, to be sure, but—”

“Sansa, I’m serious.” He spoke a little more forcefully. “You know I always wanted Arya to be found, but not enough to see you charged with conspiring against the Crown.”

Sansa’s shoulders tensed up in anger. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to use the Marbrands to clandestinely send ravens back and forth with Tyrion, but it’s different when I want—”

“Yes, it _is_ different!” He squeezed her hand until it hurt her bones. “I have Lannister blood! In the Red Keep’s eyes, that gives me a level of defense in which I could be forgiven for my crimes. Now, you might be Lady Lannister, and a fine one at that—but in the Red Keep’s eyes, do you know what kind of blood you still have? Traitor’s blood, Sansa!” His eyes were burning as he looked into hers. “Cersei would use _any infraction_ on your part to remind them —”

“I don’t give a damn about Cersei!” She stared straight at him, unwavering and unapologetic. “Not when it comes to Arya. I should have taken care of her, I should have stood beside her………but I didn’t. I turned my back on my little sister— _because of Cersei_.” The song ended and they bowed to each other, with Sansa looping her hand through Jaime’s arm. “When it comes to me finding Arya, Cersei can go to all the Seven Hells for all care.”

 

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jaime breathed out hotly against her skin as they finally crashed through their bedchamber doors well past two in the morning. “I’m sorry,” his tongue brushed over the length of her throat. “I didn’t mean to get angry with you earlier, I just—"

Earlier in the evening, before they made their way to the Grand Hall, Sansa had dismissed Deandre from the task of helping her undress after the feast ended, knowing that she and Jaime would most likely need their privacy once the night was over. With how much she and her husband wanted each other right then, she was glad the matronly woman wasn’t waiting in their rooms.

“Hush, husband.” Sansa carded her fingers through Jaime’s hair and sucked lightly on his earlobe. “I know why you grew agitated.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I just want to keep you safe, keep you here with me.” He moved his lips down to press light kisses over the tops of her breasts peeking out from her gown. “And naked. Everything is always better when you’re naked.”

She giggled and pushed him back from her, smirking as the action caused him to let out a pained—but thoroughly _aroused_ —moan. She sat at her dressing table and pulled out the ruby-encrusted pins which held her hair and her new tiara in place. She paused momentarily as the reflection in her mirror caught the delicious sight of him reclining on his side on their bed—while he himself looked over her form with heated eyes.

“Well, while we _get naked_ , dear husband, why don’t you tell me what you were waiting until the end of the night to tell me?”

“Oh, that.” Jaime laid down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, the Marbrands passed on some more ravens from Castle Black. And Tyrion’s raven was….. _interesting_ , to say the least.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply. “Apparently, all those terrifying tales wizened Northwomen tell children to strike the fear of the Old Gods into them—they are real.”

Sansa furrowed her brow and twisted her upper body to look at him. “What are you _talking about_?”

He made a flourish with his arm. “White Walkers, armies of the dead, war to end all wars………”

“Are you sure Tyrion wasn’t playing some kind of joke on you?” Sansa let down her hair and stood, reaching behind herself to begin unlacing her gown. “He was always prone to exaggeration to aid in his quest for humor.”

“Another raven, saying the _same thing_ ……..was from Jon Snow.” Jaime rose from the bed to unlace his breeches. He quirked a brow. “Is _he_ prone to exaggeration or humor?”

“No, not in the slightest.” Sansa’s furrowed brow deepened in growing worry. “Are they telling the Red Keep, or the Citadel, or any of the other kingdoms?”

“They’ve sent out word to nearly everyone. And the response from the Red Keep—which most other kingdoms are adhering to—is that testament of the end of the world, coming from a kin/kingslayer and a traitor’s bastard son, is not to be taken seriously. And the Citadel is bitter because Tyrion is serving as a de facto Maester, even though he has no training.”

With her gown finally unlaced and dropped to the floor, and his doublet, breeches, and tunic thrown across the room, they pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. He pulled her soft, warm body to his and she went willingly. They kissed deeply, their breaths growing labored and skin growing heated with each passing moment. He grabbed hold of the hem of her shift and slowly slid it up her body, kissing the bare skin that each upward inch revealed. She threw her head back in bliss and had just begun to lightly tug on his hair—when he suddenly stopped his ministrations and sat back up on his knees.

“Wha—” she croaked out with glazed-over eyes, jarred at the abrupt stop of their activities.

Jaime’s face contorted in pensiveness. “Actually, with the information you received from Highgarden, Tyrion’s last raven to the Marbrands makes more sense.” He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “Even with the misdirection of our messages to other Houses, we have to speak vaguely in our ravens sometimes if we feel the communications are being monitored. The last raven from the Wall said they had acquired someone to their cause that would be arriving soon to remind the North of what it used to be. And to stand beside Jon as he attempted to rally the North to help retake what was theirs.”

Sansa’s eyes widened to the size of the moon shining outside the window. She sat straight up. “Winterfell?”

“To use as the seat of their forces when the North fights off the undead, I’d imagine.” He lightly grasped Sansa by the shoulder. “Sansa, if Jon wanted to rally the Northern houses to retake Winterfell from the Boltons, could he do it without a Stark—even if that Stark was just a girl—standing beside him?”

“It’s possible.” Sansa swallowed, but then shook her head. “But unlikely. The North Remembers the Stark name.”

“Arya could be headed to Castle Black, and then traveling on with Jon…..” Jaime tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “……to Winterfell.”

“Winterfell.” Sansa smiled, her teeth biting her lip in barely-contained excitement. “Arya could go home. She could go home, Jaime!”

Jaime looked forlornly down to his golden hand resting in his lap. “Yes…… _home_.”

Sansa’s elation was then overcome with sadness at seeing Jaime’s reaction. She placed two fingers beneath his chin, lifting his face so that he met her gaze. “ _Arya’s_ home, Jaime. Not _mine_.”

“Sansa,” he gently cupped his good hand around the back of her neck. “if you had the chance to go back—”

“Jaime, I loved Winterfell—even though I didn’t appreciate it at the time—and I miss Winterfell. I want to see my brother and sister there, safe and in their home.” She shook her head, smiling tenderly. “But it isn’t _my_ home anymore, and I haven’t felt that it _was_ for three years.” She chuckled softly in remembrance, before continuing teasingly, “Well okay, maybe only _two and a half years_.”

 

 

**Two and a Half Years Past**

 

 

_Sansa walked through Jaime’s open solar doors to find him sitting at his desk. “Lord Jaime?”_

_He raised his head at the sound of her voice. “Sansa, I’ve told you before, you can just call me Jaime.”_

_“So I’ve been told.” She gave him a tight smile, before turning to close the doors._

_When she turned to face him again, they were silent for several long moments._

_Jaime reclined against the back of his chair, giving her a sympathetic look. “How are you today?”_

_Sansa twisted her hands that were folded in front of her, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m……I’m **miserable**.”_

_Jaime’s heart broke at hearing her words. He’d known they were true—you’d have to be a blind fool to not know that—but to hear it come out of her mouth was something else entirely._

_He was failing to keep his vow. But most important, he was failing her._

_He clenched his eyes shut and let out a harsh breath. “I know, Sansa. Tell me…..” he swallowed audibly. “……tell me what I can do to make you **not** feel that way.”_

_“You can’t.” Sansa shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. “At least not by yourself.”_

_Jaime stood and walked over to her, guiding them both to sit in cushioned chairs by the large window. He gently took her hand, entwining their fingers. “Tell me who else, then.”_

_She raised her eyes to look into his, and laid her heart out vulnerable and honest before him. “Me.”_

_Jaime raised his brow. “You?”_

_“Yes, me.” She nodded seriously, biting her lip in shame. “The last six moons I’ve spent either miserable, or zealously praying for something to come and miraculously make me happy. And you’ve done your best….but you can’t do it alone.”_

_Jaime looked out the window forlornly, taking in a shuddering breath. “Sansa, sometimes I think about what it means…….for me to be a Lannister and for you to be a Stark. And when my mind floats to those thoughts, I’m just, well I’m……I’m overcome by it. So many grievances, so many tragedies.”_

_A tear rolled down her cheek. “Do those things mean that we’re to be strangers for the rest of our days?”_

_He shook his head and his finger reached out to catch that tear. “I married you and brought you here to honor my vow. But Sansa, how can we ever get past them?”_

_“We can get past them because they **are** in the past. We have to think about **now**.” Her strong, clear voice answered. She took in the grandeur of the room where they sat and looked out the window onto the gentle blue sea. “Jaime, I look around this place—this beautiful, beautiful place—and I think I could belong here.” She squeezed his hand, continuing shyly with her porcelain cheeks growing pink. “And I look at you, you’re imperfect to be sure, but there are times when I find myself imagining……well……”_

_His eyes widened at her almost-admission, but he chuckled breathily. “I have those times, as well.”_

_“We should try.” She stated firmly, her demeanor and stature resolute—but calm. “The both of us.”_

_He placed his golden hand on her forearm, unsure but hopeful as to where her thoughts were going. “Try what?”_

_She gave him the best smile he’d ever seen in his whole life. “To be happy.”_

 

After they sorted through the many clues of Arya, White Walkers, and the possible retaking of Winterfell, and after they spent a wonderfully long stretch of time making love, Sansa and Jaime laid pressed against each other with no barriers between their sweaty skin.

Sansa laid half on top of him with her arm draped over his chest, while Jaime used his good hand to run his fingers through the length of her soft hair.

“I can practically hear the thoughts crashing around in that magnificent brain of yours.” He kissed her temple. “I’d have thought our activities would have sent you into a state of blissful calm.” He chuckled playfully. “Have I lost my ability to please you?”

She turned her head up and kissed along his jaw. “That would be a resounding NO.”

“Good.” His lips found hers in a sweet kiss.

“Jaime,” Sansa began nervously, tightening her hold on Jaime’s chest. “there is something I have to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you. I was going to keep it from you until you absolutely _had_ to know, but I realize now that I just can’t.”

“Sansa,” Jaime took a trembling breath, eyes dilating in fear. “It’s alright, sweetling. Just tell me.”

“The Queen brought a healer from Essos along with her. She’s been working with Margaery to try to get her to conceive.” Sansa’s fingers shook slightly as she ran them along Jaime’s cheek. “The healer is going to examine me, to see why it is that I can’t.”

Jaime sat up against the pillows, bringing Sansa with him to lean into his chest. “Love, I wish you wouldn’t torture yourself over this.”

“It’s not torture, Jaime.” Sansa argued with the beginnings of anger.

“If it pains you like this, then it’s torture.” Jaime shook his head, sweetly cupping her cheek. “There could be many reasons why it hasn’t happened yet. But that doesn’t mean it never _will_.”

“So what is the problem with trying to find out what those reasons are?” She nearly shouted. “And of the many reasons why—we know that the reason isn’t because of _you_!”

“Sansa—” Jaime whispered in shock.

Sansa gulped. “I know, Jaime. I know. We swore long ago that we’d never mention that.” She admitted, both of them knowing she referred to three golden-haired children that bore another man’s name. “But we both know that _I’m_ the reason we have no babe.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You are the Lady of Casterly Rock, you are my wife, you are my love, my redemption. And you will continue to be all those things……..even if we never have a babe.” He could feel the wetness on her cheeks and began kissing it away. “I would love to have a child with you—but not enough to exchange it for your peace, happiness, and self-worth. I know there is pressure from House Lannister and the Westerlands……. but not from me. Sansa, why does it distress you so?”

“Because I _love you_.” She gave a shaky laugh, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “And I never in a million years thought that would happen. That is a miracle that has changed who I am. Made me better. And I just don’t understand…….why is that not _enough_?”

“ _Sansa_.” Jaime leaned in and kissed her neck.

“There are tens, no, hundreds of thousands of people out there who don’t love each other and yet they have children. Seven Hells, do you think any of the women who gave Walder Frey his many children _ever_ loved him?!!” She paused as Jaime began stroking her hair to soothe her trembling body. “I don’t understand how the Gods can look at what you and I have and not want to give us a babe—not want us to be a family.”

“Sansa, I said it before and I’ll say it again: I would love to have a child with you. Truly, that would be one of the greatest things to ever happen to me.” Jaime kissed both her eyes and then her lips. “But even without a babe……we’re _already_ a family.”

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Jaime walked along the battlements of the Rock with the smiling King of Westeros in step beside him.

“I always forget how beautiful it is here.” Tommen spoke happily, looking out onto the sea.

Jaime grinned, catching the shine of the shimmering water. “No place as majestic as the Rock.”

“And so fresh.” Tommen turned his face up to the warmth of the sun. “Your nose gets used to the smell of King’s Landing, and you start not to notice it. Until you come to a place like this and breathe in the salt air and feel the gentle wind on your face.”

“The Poet King.” Jaime chuckled kindly.

Tommen laughed too, a bright smile nearly splitting his face. They walked further along, until a serious expression replaced the smile. “It makes me happy that our wives are friends.”

Jaime nodded. “You’ve been blessed with a wonderful Queen.”

“And the Rock has a truly lovely Lady.” Tommen replied with honesty. “It was never my belief that Sansa should have suffered for the sins of her family. I’m happy she has found some peace here at the Rock.”

Another nod. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Peace can be hard to come by in the Keep.” Tommen admitted suddenly, shocking Jaime.

Jaime stuttered for a moment. “Many forces at work to run a Kingdom, sometimes it can seem overwhelming.”

“Suffocating.” Tommen groaned, then seemed almost horrified at the words slipping out. “Forgive me, I don’t want to seem ungrateful that the Gods bestowed this life upon me.”

Jaime scratched his forehead, beginning carefully. “Tommen, you may be the first king to sit on the throne in fifty years who’s actually worthy of it.”

“Uncle,” Tommen began softly, seeming pained to even be speaking. “if you had to choose between the life you were given, and the life you could possibly create—which would you choose?”

“I cannot make your choices for you, Your Grace.” Jaime heaved a great sigh, but then determined to try to help the boy. “But there is a reason I have not returned to King’s Landing since I became Lord of Casterly Rock.” Jaime looked out towards the furthest horizons of the Sunset Sea. “I chose to make my life here, to give my everything to the life I had here. And I have been rewarded for that choice a hundredfold.”

“Mother……” Tommen tried to speak before rubbing his eyes in frustration and pain.

“I will not speak badly to you about your mother, Tommen.” Jaime stated firmly. “Even if I have much cause to.”

“She’s creating problems.” Tommen continued in a way that told Jaime it was something he needed to get off his chest. “She’s kept that strange man who was expelled from the Citadel—”

Jaime unconsciously rubbed the arm of his golden hand. “Qyburn?”

“She’s gotten involved with some radical offshoot of the Faith called the Sparrows, and you know that it’s not a true conversion because Mother is truly about as pious as the rats in the sewers of Flea Bottom.” Tommen’s shoulders seemed to deflate. “And she’s causing problems for Myrcella.”

Jaime’s eyes widened in shock. “Myrcella’s married and in Dorne.”

“Yes, she’s causing problems for us in Dorne.” Tommen admitted defeatedly. “She keeps sending ravens to Sunspear demanding that the Martells return her ‘ _hostage_ ’ daughter to her—without the permission of the Crown, of course.”

Jaime’s face screwed up in worry. “What does your grandfather do about this?”

“He’s had to go to great lengths to ease the tensions that Mother has created. And Myrcella keeps returning ravens stating that she’s happy and fulfilled in House Martell, but Mother doesn’t want to hear it. Just to settle Mother’s concerns, I sent a diplomatic mission to Sunspear, and they returned with the news that Myrcella is exactly as she claims to be. But Mother is defiant that it isn’t true and that Trystane Martell spends every night raping her little girl.”

Jaime shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t begin to understand—”

“And I feel like Margaery and I can’t truly be happy with her there.” Tommen’s words rushed out all at once. “Mother seems determined to make me feel that I’m a terrible son if I choose to be a good husband.” He looked ashamed and ran a frustrated hand over his face. “Maybe I _am_ a terrible son.”

“No, Tommen.” Jaime disagreed strongly. “You’re not.”

_Interfering with the happiness of the two children you had that were actually worth a damn. That’s just fucking perfect, Cersei._

“Grandfather has absolutely had it with her.” Tommen continued. “I don’t understand why she didn’t just go to Highgarden like Grandfather had planned.”

Jaime had a sneaking suspicion as to the reason Cersei was not shipped off to the Reach and why she was still allowed to cause trouble in the Red Keep, seeing as how Tywin had angrily revealed to Jaime before he left for the Rock that the truth of the past relationship between his two eldest children was now known to him. And the truth of the three children it created.

If Cersei had threatened to reveal the truth, well……..that could be catastrophic for House Lannister. And say what you will about Tywin Lannister—and you could say _a lot_ (conspiring to break Guest Right and slaughter a whole wedding, setting loose the monstrous Mountain to murder innocent royal children)—but he was all about safeguarding House Lannister. The Old Lion could be choking on the stranglehold of being blackmailed by his own daughter.

Jaime looked sympathetically to the young king and decided to impart the best wisdom he had ever learned. And it was wisdom Jaime had stumbled upon very late in life—but if Tommen knew it now while still young, then at least that was something Jaime could pass on to this boy that he’d never be allowed to claim as his own.

“Tommen, look at the characters of the two women in your life, their hearts and their souls……. really _look_.” Jaime touched his shoulder comfortingly. “And then if you must choose between them, don’t feel obligated by blood. Because not even blood can outweigh real love.”

 

 

 

 

 

“How often to you engage in relations with your husband?”

Sansa’s cheeks grew blazing hot, and she looked at both the strikingly exotic woman sitting across the table from her, and to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms sitting beside her. “Um……….”

“Sansa,” Margaery began sweetly. “I told you Sidhari’s questions would be intrusive. But they’re necessary for her to do her work.” She laid a soothing hand on her friend’s knee. “I know you asked me to be here, but would you now prefer that I leave?”

“No.” Sansa swallowed loudly. “No, I might actually lose my nerve completely if you leave.”

Sansa looked at the table in their solar, now covered with vials and bottles, parchment and books. There was even a particularly frightening needle the size of a stalk of wheat that rested near Sidhari’s wrinkled brown hand.

“I lay with my husband quite often.” Sansa answered meekly.

“More than just when the Maester tells you that you’re most fertile?” The healer did not look up from the parchment she was writing on.

“Yes.”

Sidhari looked up. “More than once a week?”

“Yes.” Sansa affirmed, looking past the woman to the wall behind her. “Though not during my moonblood.”

“Hmm.” Sidhari put her chin in the palm of her hand. “And do you enjoy it?”

Even Margaery lowered her head in slight embarrassment.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Forgive me, Lady Lannister.” Sidhari cocked her head to the side. “What I’m really asking is, do you peak?”

“I….I….” Sansa nearly choked.

“Sansa,” Margaery squeezed her hand. “We both want to have families…..don’t we?”

Sansa sat up straighter in her chair and took a deep breath. “I do peak, every time we’re together. Though not always…..not always when he is inside me.”

“So, you engage in finger stimulation of your female organ? And in oral pleasure?”

“Yes.” Sansa’s eyes again widened slightly in guilt. “But he always spends inside me. I assure you.”

Sidhari gave her a comforting smile. “I’m not judging, my lady. It’s not always possible for a woman to peak while the man is inside her—but peaking for a woman is often necessary for the seed to quicken and take root in the womb. Even if that peak comes from finger or oral stimulation. It’s good that the two of you make it happen in any way you can.”

Sansa folded both hands in her lap. “Jaime always takes care to make sure I enjoy our coupling along with him.”

“He is kind to you?” The foreign woman asked softly.

Sansa was taken aback by the question but answered truthfully. “He is, I’m very happy to be his wife.”

“And you want to have his child?” Sidhari pursed her lips. “Not just to further the line of House Lannister, but because you want to have a family with him?”

A soft, serene expression grew on Sansa’s face. “Yes, very much so.”

“Good.” Sidhari grinned back at her. “You’d be surprised how much it aids in conception for the mother and father to actually care about each other.”

Sansa smiled sweetly. “We do.”

“Alright now.” Sidhari slapped her palms to the table. “What positions do you and your husband use when you couple?”

Sansa thought the skin on her face would burn up and float away like ash. “Um…………”

 

 

 

 

 

When Jaime returned from his talk with Tommen on the battlements, he walked through the halls where the various workshops were located in the castle—heading to the tannery, after noticing while with Tommen that the straps holding his golden hand to his arm needed to be adjusted.

He had just turned into that hallway when he heard a furious, viscous voice speaking in burning contempt. It was a tone of voice that he’d not heard in over three years.

Jaime looked around the nearest wall to find Cersei and Sansa’s handmaiden Deandre in the corner of a workroom, with the Queen Mother angrily gripping the servant’s arm hard enough to bruise.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but nothing you _think_ , _feel_ , or _say_ , matters at all. _Nothing_.” Cersei was seething, her eyes blazing, while Deandre looked to be near tears. “I am _the Queen_. And you are _nothing_. No one says no to me. _No one walks away from me_.”

“ _What_ in Seven Hells is this?!!” Jaime shouted into the small room.

Cersei let go of Deandre’s arm and stepped back from her, remaining in a silent rage. She stormed to the door and pushed past Jaime, but he stopped her by grabbing her arm almost as harshly as Cersei had been gripping the other woman’s.

“What was that _about_?” He asked forcefully, teeth clenched enough to make his jaw hurt. “Tell me!”

“Something about _my life_.” Cersei laughed hatefully at him. “And you are no longer a part of it, so it’s none of your concern.”

“Stay away from my servants.” Jaime raged, even though he maintained a falsely calm demeanor. “I don’t want to find you abusing them again, understood?”

Cersei’s face screwed up cruelly, and she let out another hateful laugh. “Understood, _Lord Lannister_.”

“Oh, and Cersei?” He let her arm loose, smirking in derision. “You’re the _Queen Mother_ , not the Queen.”

When Cersei sauntered away, Jaime and the frightened servant were left alone. He carefully came closer to her, asking softly, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Lord Lannister.” Deandre nodded.

“What was that _about_?” He repeated.

Deandre laughed sorrowfully. “She seems to think we servants have gone lazy under you and Lady Sansa’s employ. And we don’t follow orders good ‘nough. Or fast ‘nough.” She shook her arm to try to ease out some of the ache. “Or maybe she was just annoyed at _everyone and everything_ , and she wanted to take it out on somebody.”

“If anything like that ever happens again,” Jaime looked down the hall after Cersei’s retreating form and rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I want to be the first to know.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hours after her examination, Sansa sat with Margaery in the esteemed guest solar eating grapes and cheese, and laughing like the teenager that, due to circumstances, she never really got to be.

“You should have seen her!” Margaery nearly doubled over. “The dress was so tight, she looked like she was in a sausage casing!”

“Oh, dear Gods,” Sansa giggled too. “I don’t care how prominent your family is, once you birth six children—"

“—with two of those children old enough to be wedded and bedded!” Margaery cut in.

“You should not be wearing the same fashions as maidens who have yet to reach their twentieth nameday!”

A knock on the solar door broke their amusement and the Queen called, “Come in!”

One of the servants that Margaery brought with her from King’s Landing entered and came over to whisper something into her ear. Margaery’s eyes narrowed at whatever the servant was telling her. “Sidhari wishes to see us both. She’s in the Rock’s apothecary room.”

The two women hurried as inconspicuously as they could down to the room off the side of the Maester’s study, where all the medicines and potions were made for the castle. When they entered, they found the healer from Yi Ti hunched over a table looking closely at a vial.

A vial that Sansa instantly recognized as full of her blood. The blood that the healer had taken from Sansa just hours before.

SIdhari turned around and set the vial on the table. She looked pondering and confused, and she gestured to two nearby chairs. “Lady Lannister, I’m afraid I am going to have to be overly-forward with you. But it’s only because I truly need to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed, nodding as she and Margaery sat. “I understand.”

Sidhari let out a deep breath. “Do you truly want a child?”

“What?” Sansa looked over to Margaery in shock, then back to the healer. “Yes, of course, that was the whole point of going through all this—”

The foreign woman interrupted. “And you’re not just doing this for show because it’s expected of you…..while secretly not wanting a babe?”

“No.” Sansa spoke with resolve.

Margaery looked scandalized. “Sidhari, I don’t know what this is about, but I swear to you, I can attest to Lady Lannister’s character and honesty.”

“Alright then,” Sidhari came around to their side of the table, grabbing the vial and showing it to them. “I have a special liquid solution that I use in my craft, and I took this solution and mixed it with the blood in this vial—your blood. And the solution revealed the secret that is keeping you from the babe you so desire.”

“You know why?” Sansa looked to Margaery in both fear and excitement.

“There is a spice that few in Westeros are familiar with, but that I am. A spice that the merchant princes of Qarth use to keep their concubines from falling pregnant.” Sidhari looked sadly at Sansa. “When I mixed my solution into this vial, I found that the spice resided in your blood.”

That said blood all rushed to Sansa’s ears in a crushing tidal wave, while it felt like her thumping heart would beat out of her chest. She distantly felt Margaery squeeze her hand. “Wait……did you say to _keep them from falling pregnant_?”

“Dear Gods.” Margaery whispered in horror beside her.

Sidhari spoke definitively, even if it was clear she didn’t wish to be speaking it. “Lady Lannister, if you are not using this spice to keep from conceiving, then someone is doing it without your knowledge.” The healer sympathetically caught Sansa’s vacant stare. “Someone is going to a lot of trouble to make sure you never have a babe.”

 

 


	3. Occam's Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is deceit and manipulation at work in Casterly Rock. Both to bring it crumbling down, and to keep it standing. 
> 
> Hard choices have to be made. Some that not everyone will survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occam's Razor is a principle essentially stating that the simplest is always the truest. I've seen some theories in the comments ( which I love! nothing like writing something that actually gets people a-thinkin' ) stating that one explanation as to the mystery of the last chapter is a little too obvious. But I'm not James Patterson or Patricia Cromwell....so obvious it is!

Marine Lefford raced through the halls of Casterly Rock, her satin shoes even slipping once on the smooth marble floor in her haste to reach her destination. She took a nervous breath and pounded out a tense knock on the door of Tywin Lannister’s guest solar.

Upon hearing the gruff “Enter!”, she opened both doors and was very relieved to find Lord Jaime in the chamber. She quickly gave a perfunctory curtsy.

“Forgive me.” Marine began with a tremor in her voice. “But Lady Lannister has immediate need of Lord Jaime.”

The worry on Jaime’s face was instant and profound. “Is something wrong?”

Marine took one look at Lord Tywin and resolved to lie, smoothing over her face as much her nerves would allow. “No, my lord. Just matters of household. She asks if you might meet her in your shared solar.”

Jaime’s face smoothed over as well, but his eyes still held onto a belief that he should be worried. “Father, may I take my leave?”

Tywin nodded, returning without a second thought to the parchment on his table. “Yes, you may.”

Jaime exited the solar with Lady Marine in step beside him. He kept walking, looking straight ahead, but as soon as he was out of possible hearing range of his father, he spoke without a sideways glance. “Something _is_ wrong, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.” Marine nodded, speaking barely above a whisper. “I know not what, but something is definitely wrong.”

“Where was she when she became distressed?” Jaime inquired anxiously.

Marine gave an audible gulp. “I believe she was with….” she lowered her voice even more. “…..the foreign woman that the Queen brought with the royal party.”

Jaime’s heart sped up even more—which he didn’t think was possible—and he felt sweat begin to form on the back of his neck.

“Lord Jaime,” Marine began hesitantly, giving a glance around the hall. “the Queen is with Lady Lannister. She is the one who sent me to find you. Lady Lannister is………” Marine took in a shaky breath. “well, she is not in a good condition.”

Jaime and Marine entered the solar to find Queen Margaery sitting on a cushioned bench with her arm around Sansa. Jaime’s wife sat with her shoulders hunched over and her arms wrapped around her middle, trembling slightly, with a deep sadness clouding over her usually bright blue eyes.

Margaery looked up at the sound of him entering. “Lord Jaime.”

Jaime nodded to the Queen and then his eyes caught sight of the wrinkled, dark-skinned woman draped in bright Essosi fabrics standing by the window. He stomped to her with a fiery purpose and furiously stuck his finger in her face. “I swear to the Gods, if you harmed my wife, I’ll have you strung up on the walls of this castle.”

“Jaime.” It was Sansa’s hoarse voice that shook him loose of his anger. “She didn’t do anything. She’s helping me. Helping us.”

Jaime walked to Sansa and knelt before her, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm. “Sansa, love?”

“My lord?” Sidhari gestured to two chairs sitting before their solar’s table, and then sat behind it. “I’d like to sit with you and your wife, ask some questions, if I could?”

“Maybe we should take some time—” Margaery interjected, worrying after the Lady of the Rock.

“No.” Sansa spoke again in a small voice. She looked to her husband with desperation in her eyes. “Jaime, I want to do this now.”

 

 

 

An hour later, all the same people were still in the room, with Jaime and Sansa sitting before the table where Sidhari worked, and Margaery and Marine sitting on the cushioned bench behind them.

“Did your breasts get larger when you came to live at Casterly Rock?”

Sansa looked strangely at the healer. “I was but fourteen when I came to the Rock. They are, of course bigger now than when I came to live here.”

Sidhari quirked a brow. “And are they ever sore?”

Jaime thought of times during their intimacies when his touches near her chest inadvertently caused her pain. “Yes. Sometimes.” Jaime paused when Sansa shot him a glare at answering for her. “What? They are.”

Sidhari wrote something on her parchment. “Are you ever ill when you wake in the mornings?”

“Sometimes.” Sansa brought a hand to cover her mouth. “Not always, but—”

“And do you ever feel you’ll be ill from the smell of certain things?” Sidhari continued on. “And is your sense of smell ever sharper? Smelling things from far away?”

Sansa remembered sitting in her solar and smelling boar roasting far down in the kitchen pits, or the smell of brine and fish in the waves of the sea floating up to her bedchamber, both seeming as though the scents would overtake her. “Yes. Those things.”

“For how long?” Sidhari narrowed her eyes.

Sansa dropped her head low. “Periodically……..since I’ve been here.”

Sidhari put down her quill and folded her hands on the table. “I see.”

“Why does this matter?” Jaime responded inquisitively.

“The spice could have been in her body for a day, or for years.” Sidhari nodded to him, “I was trying to find out which.”

“Is it…is it….harming her?” Jaime’s voice shook in fear. “Making her…. _poisoning_ her?”

“No, my lord.” The healer quickly comforted him. “The spice, it’s different from other substances that are used to stop pregnancies. It actually tricks the body into thinking it _is_ with child. And if a body is with child, well………..it cannot be with child _again_.”

“Is it….is it what is keeping _me_ from conceiving?” Margaery spoke softly, looking to her folded hands. “This spice?”

“No, Your Grace.” Sidhari shook her head. “Neither it, nor any other substance I know of has ever been found in your blood.”

Margaery seemed almost disappointed with that answer.

“The smells, the swollen breasts,” Marine began, putting it all together. “the sickness in the morning. Those are all symptoms of when a woman is with child.”

Sidhari tapped her finger to the tip of her nose, indicating that the woman was correct. “But none of those symptoms ever brought forth a child, did they?”

Jaime shook his head in sad disbelief. “We have a taster here at Casterly Rock. If she was being poisoned—”

“But as we’ve just said, it’s _not a poison_.” Sidhari sat back in her chair. “In any case, I think a taster would have been inconsequential.”

“Why?” Margaery spoke again from where she’d walked up behind Sansa, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“In all the dealings I’ve had with this spice.” Sidhari shrugged. “I’ve never seen it ingested.”

“Then how—?” Marine asked softly.

“In salves, balms, oils.” Sidhari answered, twisting her lips. “Absorbed through the skin.”

Jaime’s heart broke. Both with anger and sadness. Because now he _knew_.

He gulped loudly and suddenly stood from his chair, shoving it back so harshly that the legs skidded against the floor.

“Jaime?” Sansa looked up at him, startled by the action.

Jaime stalked away from the women, pushing the solar doors open so hard that they swung to slam into the outside walls. He stormed down the halls with a single-minded purpose, not even hearing his panicked wife calling after him. “ _Jaime_?!! Jaime, where are _you going_?!!”

 

 

 

 

Jaime found her in the seamstress’s room, preparing the dress that Sansa had chosen to wear to the evening’s dinner with the King and Queen, Hand of the King, and Queen Mother. She smoothed a fine cloth over the expensive fabric and did not notice he was there until he cleared his throat. She then looked up at him.

“Ah, Lord Jaime.” Deandre curtseyed and smiled at him before returning to her work. “Never thought I see the day when you was down here. I was just gettin’ the Lady’s dress ready to—”

“Where is _your daughter_?” Jaime interrupted, asking evenly, but with an underlying threat in his tone telling her that she’d better answer him if she knew what was good for her.

Deandre’s eyes widened in terror and her mouth fell open as she dropped the cloth on the floor. “Lord Jaime—”

“Your _only_ daughter, I believe.” Jaime cut her off once again. “What is her name? Amanay—something like that.”

“Ananya.” Deandre whispered the name reverently, with profound sadness. “Her name is Ananya.”

“You speak of her all the time. Her childhood, her sweet disposition, how happy you were when she was finally born……..” Jaime walked forward, his hands—living and golden—folded in front of him. “….yet no mention is ever given to where she is _right now_.”

Deandre lowered her head to avoid Jaime’s eyes. “My daughter went with the group of servants that followed Lord Tywin when he became Hand of the King.”

“And yet she’s not serving my father in King’s Landing anymore, is she?” Jaime encroached on Deandre’s space. “You need to tell me—and tell me _now_. She’s _not_ serving my father anymore?”

“No.” Deandre shut her eyes, and a tear fell from her lashes while it seemed as if her whole body slumped in despair. “She now lives in a black cell beneath the Red Keep, and she has since you and Lady Sansa came to live at the Rock.”

Jaime instinctively fisted his living hand. “For what crime. And under whose authority?” Jaime uttered through clenched teeth. “Who _put her there_?”

“You know who.” Deandre finally looked at him, shaking her head sadly as she cupped both her cheeks in devastation. “Who else but _her_? Your sister is a _horrible creature_ , an absolute _aberration_ of a woman. My girl—my _only child_ —sits in prison on false charges, under the constant threat that she’ll be executed if I don’t do what the Queen Mother wants.”

Jaime’s head fell to his chest, and his heart felt heavy enough to sink him to the bottom of the sea. “And the Queen Mother wants…… _the spice_?”

“In the Lady’s perfume oils. Every day, I had to do it every day.” Deandre shook her head and her eyes squeezed shut. “I tried to tell Cersei that I couldn’t do it no more. And when I told her that, she……she…..” the woman reached into a pocket in the folds of her skirt. “….she gave me _this_.”

Deandre pulled out a long length of braided hair and held it up in the palm of her hand for him to see.

Jaime’s eyes began to blaze in fury on Deandre’s behalf. “Is that your—”

“It’s my girl’s. It’s my Ananya’s hair.” Deandre looked at him in amazed horror. “Cersei brought this, all the way from King’s Landing. Just to torture me. The depths of hell that woman must……” she brought the braid of hair up to her nose and smelt it as a woman might smell her baby’s hair. “She left me no….it was _my child—or yours_.”

He clenched and unclenched his good hand. “Cersei’s rather skilled at using people’s love to her own twisted advantage.”

“Cersei said it wouldn’t hurt Lady Lannister!” Deandre began to cry in great wracking sobs. “I wouldn’t have done it if it hurt Lady Sansa, I’d never hurt Lady Sansa……..these three years that I’d known her…..” the woman walked to him and gently fisted her hands in his doublet, pleading with him as tears still streamed down her face. “Lord Jaime, it was killing me to do it…..your wife, I _love her so_.”

Jaime turned, suddenly overcome with a palpable exhaustion, and he despondently looked to the door. “I have to talk to my father.”

 

 

 

 

 

But Jaime took a couple of detours on the way to his father’s chambers. First, he went to the armory. Then, he did make his way to the hall of the guest chambers, but he did not go to his father.

The doors were closed, but he had no care for her privacy. He kicked them in with no regard to damage.

She was half-reclined on a cushioned settee—naturally, she’d had a glass of wine in her hand, which she spilled in shock at his sudden and violent entrance. She stood in fury.

“Have you lost your mind?” Cersei seethed at him. She immediately stomped to the table by the wall that held the wine jug, and she turned her back to him to refill her goblet. “How dare you! I’m the Qu—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish, as Jaime grabbed her and turned her around, slamming her to the wall with his arm, his golden hand pressing hard against her neck. With his good hand, he unsheathed the sword he’d picked up in the armory and held the sharp tip of the blade underneath her chin.

“You are NOT _the Queen_.” He nearly spit in her face. “And I may have lost a hand, but the hand I still have can run this sword clean through your throat—and end your _pathetic_ life. Right now, I can’t think of _one gods damn reason_ that I shouldn’t!”

“ _Our children_.” Cersei croaked out, running out of breath as his arm pressed deeper on her throat.

He laughed hatefully, but stepped back, letting her slide down from the wall to gasp for air as she grabbed at her throat.

“As if you _give a bloody fuck_ about our children!” He moved over to the table with the wine, picking up the jug and throwing it against the wall on the opposite side of the room, shattering the glass onto the floor. “As if you give a bloody fuck about _anybody but yourself_.”

Cersei leaned back against the wall, still coughing slightly. “So……. _you know_ , then. That old handmaiden bitch must have given me up.” Her smile was enough to make him physically ill. “Oh, how I’m going to _enjoy_ watching her daughter die.”

“What is _wrong_ with you!!” He screamed, veins popping from his forehead. “How are you such a vile, cruel……. _absolutely evil_ woman?”

Her face reddened, and her lips twisted in acrimony. “You _betrayed me_.” She answered as if that was a legitimate answer to anything.

He pointed a finger at her in fury. “I’m not even going to mention all the ways that _you_ betrayed _me_ ….. because it doesn’t _matter_ , Cersei.”

“It doesn’t matter?!!” She screamed in disbelief.

“No!” He screamed back at her. “I didn’t fall in love with Sansa to spite you, to get back at you. I fell in love with her because she’s kind, and generous, and gentle—but fierce when she needs to be—and thinks of other people before she even begins to think of herself, and because she’s the _exact fucking opposite of you_!!!”

“I hate you!!” She seethed with rage.

“And right now, I hate you! Never hated anyone more in my life!” He screamed again. “I hate that you are so _utterly despicable_ that you would lie, and threaten, and coerce, and manipulate—just to deny me happiness with the woman I love.”

“That little bitch!!” Cersei sneered. “I would sink to any depths to keep that little whore’s children from the world! Her traitor seed carrying the Lannister name, our _mother’s_ name!”

“I hate you right now, so fucking much. But until the moment I discovered that you had done this……..” Jaime breathed harshly but with a quiet indignation. “until that moment, Cersei, I’d rarely thought of you. You rarely _ever matter to me_. Because away from you, away from your poison, I found something _right_.”

“Oh spare me your fucking poetry!” She spit out. “You like fucking her, and that’s all. That’s all anyone could truly feel for a twittering, vapid little waste-of-a-body like Sansa _fuckin_ g Stark. And you’re a fool to not see that she’s using you to—”

He stalked towards her until she was backed to the wall again, taking the blade and laying it across her collarbone. “It took me only a few moons of loving Sansa, and having her love me in return, to realize how absolutely twisted your version of love is. The way you love people……It’s absolutely abhorrent to the Gods……..to anything good and _decent in this world_.”

She turned her face away. “Shut your fucking mouth!!!!”

“And those children? The one’s you invoked to keep my sword out of your neck?” He laughed bitterly at her. “If you ever valued them as anything other than tools for your own ambition, objects that you can manipulate to get all the power that you will _never stop desiring_ —then the sky would probably fall, and the mountains would crumble.”

A raging cry came from her throat, and she scratched at his good arm. “Let me—”

“Everything you touch becomes diseased _and wrong_.” He pressed hard against her neck once more, then let her go so that he could walk to the door. “You stay out of our children’s lives, Cersei. You let them be happy and make their own choices. And you stay away from my wife, and the children that we are _going to have_.” Before he left the chamber, he pointed a threatening finger at her. “If any sick, hateful thing you do _ever_ touches anyone I love again…….you won’t live to see another day.”

 

 

 

 

 

Tywin’s face fell, and his skin instantly drained of color. “She did _what_?”

“I’m not going to repeat it.” Jaime sneered, pacing back and forth in Tywin’s solar. “You know it’s true, you know she did it. But even if you tried to pretend that you had doubts—the handmaiden confessed to it all.”

“Spiced perfume oils?” Tywin repeated incredulously.

Jaime let out a hateful laugh. “Pretty smart move on Cersei’s part, actually. She knew if Sansa were poisoned, or died in some other way, that you _actually_ might not let _that_ stand. But with her just denying Sansa the chance to have children, to have heirs? Well, you might not _ever know_ about _that_. And it would still give Cersei the chance to destroy my wife from the inside—disparage her as a woman, make her a second-class Lady of the Rock, and an untrue Lannister,” he pointed at Tywin. “and Cersei would have the added pleasure of rubbing in your face that you took so many chances on a broodmare that failed to breed!”

“Are you _finished_?” Tywin sneered back at him. “And Cersei?” He asked, sinking to his chair. “What does the accused have to say for herself?”

“Cersei? Well, Cersei practically bragged about it.” He stared down at his father in disgust. “Why wouldn’t she? You’ve made it perfectly clear that she’s above answering for her wrongs.”

Tywin lifted a finger. “Now, you wait just one—”

“No, I won’t wait. Not a single _moment longer_.” Jaime seethed, leaning over to desk, his face close to his father’s. “An innocent woman sat in a cell beneath the Red Keep for years, simply so Cersei could use her desperate mother to do this horrible thing. I never thought I’d say this, but are you _daft_? Or just a _coward_?”

Tywin pompously sat back in his chair. “You don’t now what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” Jaime raised both brows. “I know what Cersei is using against you. How could you _let her_? How could you let this go on? Doing whatever the hell she wants? It’s a bluff, Father.” Jaime shook his head in disgust. “They’d string her up, Tommen and Myrcella, and me, as well. She knows what would happen if she revealed the truth. You know she’d _never do it_.”

Jaime had never seen his father terrified before. He’d seen the look in his father’s eyes the moment he realized that a foe was not to be taken lightly. He’d seen his father resigned to an outcome that was not necessarily to his liking. But terrified? Never. Not until that moment.

Tywin’s jaw clenched, and his eyes shut in defeat. “I actually think she _would_.”

The words hung in the air between them. “What?” Jaime whispered in shock.

“Something changed in her…….when Joffrey was murdered.” Tywin opened his eyes again and stared directly into Jaime’s. “You weren’t around to see it as it overcame her. It came over her slowly……” he let out a rueful snort. “Or maybe it came over her all at once, I’m _not sure_. That is my failing in life, it seems—the _not_ noticing. It’s amazing how a man so obsessed with the concept of his family can have no idea as to what was actually happening in his family.”

“I think we all saw in this family what we wanted it to be.” Jaime sat in the chair before the table. “And didn’t see until much too late what it actually _was_.”

“I’ve had to walk a very fine line……because somewhere always, in a dark part of my mind, I believed that she might just destroy it —all of it—if she didn’t get her way. She’d end it all and take every one of us with her, just to prove she had the power to do it.” Tywin rubbed a hand over his forehead. “That she’d have no compunction about burning House Lannister to the ground one day.”

Jaime sat up, putting his golden hand on the table. “What are you prepared to do about it?”

Tywin shook his head. “ _Jaime_ —”

“Look around you!” Jaime demanded loudly. “She’s already burning House Lannister to the ground. It might be a slow burn. Maybe even slow enough that, once again, you don’t notice. But it’s happening: my happiness, Myrcella’s happiness, Tommen’s happiness—which, I’ll remind you, could be detrimental to the safety of all of Westeros. Not to mention drugging my wife and actively interfering with the _literal_ future of our house—simply out of spite!! How many men have you put to the sword because they threatened our house? Why is she any _different_?”

“Because she’s my daughter!” Tywin slapped his palms down on the table.

Jaime rose harshly enough to knock his chair over. “So, what’s suddenly changed, huh?!!” Jaime pointed an accusing finger at his father. “You had no problem before _dealing with_ one of your children!!”

Tywin’s face reddened in anger. “I showed Tyrion _mercy_!!!”

“Mercy? You let him be convicted and condemned to the Wall for a crime you _knew he didn’t commit_!!” Jaime screamed, his face red in return.

“No, I _didn’t know_ that.” Tywin stated, his indignation lessening. “I still don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Jaime’s voice quieted significantly, his disappointment clear. “You knew that trial was a fraud, you know Cersei orchestrated the whole thing to get the result she wanted. The result you wanted, too. Now, whether you actively participated in the deception, or whether you were just willfully ignorant in letting it happen, I don’t know.” Jaime righted his chair and sat down again. “But don’t you _ever pretend_ that you didn’t know Tyrion was innocent. Not to me.”

“Jaime, I…..I…..” Tywin attempted to speak several times, but then gave up and looked out the window in exhaustion.

“You let it happen because you thought Tyrion was the monster of the family. But he’s not. He never was.” Jaime loosened his doublet and let out a loud sigh. “The monster of the family is the one you put on the Iron Throne next to Robert. The one you let get away with murder and the incitement of civil war because she’d birthed three royal children and achieved your goal of someone of your line becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms.” His face contorted in a sneer. “But she twisted even that, didn’t she, Father?”

Tywin breathed heavily out his nose. “And what would you have me do? Cut off her head on the steps of Baelor?”

“You’re too smart for that. And so am I. But people die every day with a dozen other possible explanations besides murder. And if we, her own family, let one of those explanations stand—there would be no reason for anyone else to question it.” Jaime stood again and walked to the solar doors, looking back to Tywin with contempt. “But you _do it_ , Father. I have my own family to take care of. And this falls on you because you’ve let it go on for too long. You talk about protecting this House, now _protect it_!!”

 

 

 

 

 

Jaime came into their shared solar to find Sansa standing near the opened windows, looking out onto the sea with a distant and wistful gleam in her eye. She must have heard him open the door, closing and barring it behind him, but she did not turn or acknowledge him. He stood silently and stared at her.

Finally, she spoke. “Was it her? Was it Cersei?”

His voice was merely a whisper. “Yes.”

Jaime didn’t really know what he’d expected Sansa to do—cry, scream, tear her hair out, rage and demand murderous revenge. But certainly, what she _did_ do managed to shock him.

She turned to face him fully and ran towards him. And it was immediately clear that she did _not_ want a tender, comforting embrace as she cried silent tears—because as soon as she reached him, she began tearing at both their clothes and rubbing her body against his. Before he could think to react, she’d begun covering his neck and collarbones with fervent kisses and bites. He finally did react when she began pulling on the laces of his breeches, getting them loose enough to slide her hand inside and grasp his length in her hot, eager hands.

With her fingers still encircling him, he managed the strength to wrap his arm underneath her backside, pulling her feet off the floor and her body into his, long enough to walk them the short distance to their table. Without a care as to what was on them, he swept all parchments off the tabletop with his golden hand, while his living hand pushed her back to lay flat on top of it. He began pulling on her bodice, hearing threads and laces rip in the process. When her skin was finally laid out for him, he brought his mouth down to her breasts, taking them between his lips and running his tongue across them. She moaned and ran her hands through his hair, tugging harshly on the golden strands.

“Jaime, Jaime.” She gasped throatily.

He moaned back, gulping for air. “My love, my love.” With her leaning up to help him, he ripped off his doublet and tunic, throwing them onto the floor before descending on her again to kiss along her collarbones and up her neck towards her jaw. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh.” She reached both hands to underneath her skirts, pulling her small clothes down to her calves, then lifting her skirts up until she was laid bare before him. “You’re _not_ them. That’s not who you _are._ I know that, I know that.”

He slid his good hand down to her center, finding that she was surprisingly wet for him. “I don’t know who I’d be without you. I’d not want to know.” He brought his face down to hers, capturing her lips in a scorching kiss that found their tongues tangling and teeth biting. “Please, please, don’t ever let me be anything _but yours_.”

“You always will be.” She used her toes to work his breeches down his legs and sat up fully to take him in her hand again, bringing him near to her center. “Jaime, my darling, my husband. Right now, I’m so beyond _done_ feeling _anything but this._ ”

He pushed her back down onto the table again—and then there was _no more talking_.

 

 

 

Sansa and Jaime where nestled into their bed later that evening, with their doors barred and them sending all knocking servants away. She’d put on a nightgown while he put on sleep pants but remained shirtless. Jaime leaned back against their headboard while Sansa sat up facing him with her loose hair draped over one shoulder and shining in the low candlelight. They were playing with their joined fingers, continuously rolling them over and under, and tapping their fingertips against the other’s palms in a gentle rhythm.

Sansa began almost teasingly. “Has Cersei ever asked you to bring her my head?”

Jaime looked up at her through his lashes. “Yes.”

“And yet I’m still here.” She smiled slyly.

“Yes, you are.” He lifted her hand to kiss the palm. He was silent for a moment. “If you asked me to bring you Cersei’s. By morning, Cersei wouldn’t have a head.”

She tugged on their still-joined hands to pull him closer to her face. “I don’t know that I particularly like you thinking that I’d expect the same things out of you as Cersei did.”

“I didn’t say that you’d _expect_ it.” He kissed her softly and sweetly. “Just that I’d _do_ it.”

“I know you would.” She nodded resolutely, pursing her lips. “Well, I _don’t_ want you to bring me Cersei’s head.”

“Why not?” He questioned without any accusation. “You’d have as much right as anybody.”

“I’m not a killer. At least not yet anyway.” She gave him a small shrug and lifted a brow. “But if we had actually _had_ a child, even a child that wasn’t born yet, and she’d _done something_ to that child?” She squeezed his hand as a fierce look came over her face. “I wouldn’t expect you to bring me her head. I’d cut it off myself.”

He ran a soft finger over the apple of her cheek. “I believe it.”

 

 

 

The morning sun had barely begun peeking through their curtains the next day when they were both awakened to a loud and repetitive banging on the solar doors. “Lord Lannister?” Someone yelled out urgently. “Lady Lannister? Please, it’s Lady Marine! I’m……I’m here with Ser Benedict.”

Sansa groaned and lifted her messy-haired head from off the pillow. “What the bloody hell is Broom doing banging on our door?”

“Gods only know.” Jaime sat up and kissed her shoulder, pulling the covers from his side of their bed to climb out with Sansa immediately pulling them back over to nestle in further. He left their bedchamber only to return a few moments later and tug the linens off her head. “Sansa?”

“Ugh. What?” She demanded with a pout, continuing sarcastically. “Tywin send the master-at-arms to gather us up to his solar so he could admonish us for refusing to spend dinner with him and the woman who’s been deliberately keeping me barren for the last three years?”

“Sansa.” Jaime gulped, face devoid of color. “When they went to wake Cersei this morning, they found her dead in her solar.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You were the last to see her last night?” Ser Benedict Broom asked the clearly scared girl before him in the Queen Mother’s solar.

“Yes, Ser.” The servant girl replied tensely, trying not to look at the dead body only party covered by a golden silk sheet. “She dismissed me after I brought in her last jug of wine.”

“Her _last_ jug?” Broom inquired with an incredulous brow. “How many had there been?”

“Ugh, yes.” The girl had come up from King’s Landing, so she was clearly familiar with the Queen Mother’s drinking habits. “It was her _fifth_ of the night.”

“That would seem to make sense with what I’ve seen so far in my examination.” Maester Creylen spoke up, peering into Cersei’s lifeless but opened mouth.

“Why?” Tywin asked gruffly, shifting his glance between the closed door and the opened window. “What have you seen?”

“Well, there are traces of vomit in both the Queen Mother’s mouth and from what I can see preliminarily down her windpipe.” Creylen looked sadly up at Tywin, then over at Jaime. “If she imbibed too much over the course of the night, it’s entirely possible—if not likely, given how she was found lying on her back—that she vomited while unconscious from the drink and then aspirated on that vomit.”

“Aspirated?” The servant girl asked in a whisper.

“Breathed the vomit into her lungs and then suffocated on it.” Creylen answered matter-of-factly without looking up at the clearly horrified girl.

“Well,” Jaime began without emotion from his place by the door. “The Queen Mother was certainly fond of imbibing.”

Tywin glared at Jaime for his flippant remark, then spoke to Creylen. “How soon until we can have the Queen Mother moved to your rooms? The sooner we can get this out of the more-populated halls of this castle, the better.”

“She can be moved now, my lord.” Creylen nodded back, gesturing to Broom. “I’ll head down to my rooms, if Ser Benedict can get a team of men together to remove the body.”

Broom nodded in the affirmative and escorted the servant girl out of the room, with Creylen following close behind and again pulling the doors closed behind him.

Tywin had moved over to the open windows as the others left and was now staring down into the crashing waves as they beat against the base of the Rock. Jaime carefully walked up beside him.

“You did what you had to do.” Jaime told his father simply as he too looked down into the water. “If she’d been allowed to continue, she’d have ruined what everyone who ever called this place home has ever worked to achieve.”

Tywin turned his head to him, shaking it slightly. “I didn’t do anything.”

Jaime shook his head in return. “Father, we’ll grieve. All of us—for the loss of what she could have been. But you don’t have to be ashamed of this, certainly not _with me_. Cersei would have made the Rock crumble beneath her feet. You had to think of House La—”

Jaime was cut off as Tywin turned to him fully and put both hands on his son’s shoulder. “I’m not feeling ashamed, or deceitful, or modest.” Tywin moved his gaze over to the covered body. “Jaime, your sister is dead, and that may be the best thing for House Lannister. And despite what Creylen believes and what we’ll all _encourage_ everyone else to believe—I’m positive she didn’t get that way _on her own_.” He again looked deep into Jaime’s eyes. “But I swear to you…….this was _not_ done by me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Choose the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover who takes action. And it prompts our Lord and Lady to do the same.

Jaime blinked several times as his father’s words hung like a solid entity between them. Tywin turned back to gaze dazedly out the window, while Jaime turned to stare at the golden-shrouded corpse.

“Father.” Jaime choked out in disbelief, beginning again uncertainly. “What do you mean? There is no need to…..you do not need to _hide_ ……” he ran his living hand through his hair and groaned. “Do you speak truly when you say that you did not do this?”

Tywin left the window and walked to the nearest chair, his mind clearly reeling as much as Jaime’s. “I do. I did not do this. I had no hand in it.”

“Then who?” Jaime uttered harshly, teeth clenched. “Do you have any idea who _did_ do this?”

“You know,” Tywin sunk to the nearest chair like an exhausted old man. He looked up to Jaime, face smoothed over in shocked realization. “I think I _do_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The chamber doors were open.

No one in the room was in hiding. No one in the room was overcome with fear of their misdeed being discovered.

Jaime walked in to find him sitting in a chair and staring out the window. He stood silent by the door for several moments, but then began softly. “Your Grace.”

Tommen’s head turned from looking out at the sea. The only word Jaime could use to describe the Young King’s expression was…… _relieved_. He gave Jaime a strange, accepting smile, and nodded in greeting. “ _Father_.”

Jaime felt his heart drop into his stomach at hearing the title. He blinked slowly while his mouth fluttered, yet no sound came out.

Tommen shook his head slightly and held up a hand, halting any explanation that Jaime might have given. “Although we’ve never spoken it aloud to each other, I think Myrcella and I have known for some time.”

“Tommen—” Jaime halted himself this time, staying silent for a while before finishing softly, “I’m sorry if that knowledge has caused you pain.”

“You think finding out that I have a parent who has actually always loved me, without conditions or expectations……caused me _pain_? No, never. I’m….I’m glad.” Tommen let out a short, sad chuckle. “I barely remember anything of Robert Baratheon besides him being loud or never around.” He looked down to his hands. “And Mother? Well, you know Mother.”

“Yes.” Jaime exhaled loudly. “I’d like to say that your mother wasn’t always like that—but maybe she always was. Maybe she was just better at hiding it……or maybe I just never wanted to _see it_.”

“Did you love her?” Tommen inquired simply, avoiding Jaime’s gaze. “Did she love you?”

Jaime pensively narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think two children like you and your sister could’ve been created without love, Tommen.”

“And what of Joffrey?” Tommen bit his lip.

“Joffrey.” Jaime’s eyes shut in defeat. “Well, Joffrey is the other side of that coin, it seems.”

There were several long moments of silence, when both became distracted by the sounds of seagulls playfully calling out as they perched on the battlements of the castle. Finally, the Young King spoke.

“I did.” He stated clearly.

“ _Did_?” Jaime repeated, mind still reeling by the previous revelation.

Tommen sighed and finally looked into Jaime’s eyes again. “What you came in here to ask me if I did.”

Jaime’s mouth went dry as he tried to swallow. But despite the physical reaction to hearing it, the news strangely did not surprise him. His face relaxed in acceptance. “I know, Tommen.”

“I don’t think I could stand it if you came here to admonish me.” Tommen played with the signet ring on his finger. “But I also don’t think I could stand it if you came here to tell me I’ve done the right thing.”

“I don’t think any reason I came here would truly matter, My King.” Jaime answered, sitting in the chair beside him. “But, for whatever reason I came………I am _here_.”

Tommen nodded with gratitude, looking back out the window. “Joffrey was a monster, and Mother gave him free reign to do whatever monstrous thing he liked. Ned Stark spoke _the truth_ , and she branded him a traitor, and he lost his head for it.”

“I’ve always been conflicted about Ned Stark. For my wife’s sake, I think his death was detestable. But for your sake, and your sister’s—who knows what would have become of the two of you if we had allowed Lord Stark to follow through on his plans.” Jaime let out a loud sigh. “Just even more parts of me that will always be at war within myself, it seems.”

“Wars fought amongst ourselves, good men killed,” Tommen eyes clenched shut, pain and guilt etched on his face. “And I sit on a throne that I have no blood right to sit on.”

“It’s as I told you, Tommen.” Jaime reminded, kindly putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Sometimes blood does not matter.”

Tommen turned in his chair to face Jaime fully. “I am sorry for what Mother did to your wife. It was wholly undeserved.”

Jaime nodded. “I thank you, Tommen.”

“When Margaery told me—it was strange. She wasn’t even angry, or vengeful. She was just……. despondent.” Tommen miserably shook his head in remembrance. “As if she was thinking ‘ _what else should we expect from Cersei Lannister_?’.” His eyes met Jaime’s without guile. “That was when it all became very clear to me. No one would ever be safe until……..”

Jaime decided to ask very plainly. “Did you speak to your grandfather yesterday afternoon, Tommen?”

Tommen shook his head in the negative. “I stayed with Margaery. Until late into the night, when I met with Sidhari.”

“The healer?” Jaime questioned without accusation, and already knowing the answer. “She gave you something………that you could pass on to your mother?”

Tommen nodded. “Sidhari’s been all over the world. And there are dozens of substances that are known to her that would go unrecognized by Casterly Rock’s maester. By the time I went to her chambers, Mother was already too deep in her cups to notice anything amiss with her wine.”

“Well, then.” Jaime responded simply. “Even if by some strange happenstance Maester Creylen is familiar with what Sidhari gave you,” he squeezed Tommen’s shoulder. “leave that to me and your grandfather.”

“Mother actually thought I’d come to see her to thank her for what she’d done. Isn’t that utterly mad?” Tommen snorted, rubbing his forehead. “That I had understood that we needed to stop a ‘ _filthy traitor_ ’ from birthing Lannister heirs.”

Jaime swallowed over a dry throat. “That just goes to show how far gone she was, Tommen.”

“You know,” Tommen’s eyes became sad, and the king instantly looked like a young child again. “the healer has never found anything wrong with Margaery or me. No known physical impediment as to why we have no child.” His lips twisted in frustration. “But she tells us that stress, lack of peace in what is around you…...can impede so much.”

“Lack of peace, security, stability……..” Jaime concurred with a comforting voice. “can impede almost anything. I didn’t understand that until I left to come here to the Rock.”

“It still seems strange to say, but I am a king. And I have a wife, a queen. I am happy with my new role, as both king _and_ husband.” Tommen folded his hands and began wringing them. “But so much of our energy was wasted on……..” he sighed deeply, looking forlornly to the window. “Margaery and I would try to be happy, to be content. We would try to move forward. But every day we’d fear what she would do next, what fresh problem she would bring forth simply because of her selfishness.”

Jaime sighed deeply as well. “Now I feel ashamed about running away to the Rock.”

“ _Don’t._ ” Tommen stated firmly, his eyes meeting Jaime’s again and suddenly made of steel. “You had every right to come here and try to find some happiness.”

“Thank you.” Jaime responded, barely above a whisper.

Tommen nodded, back straightening and shoulders rolling upwards. “Grandfather has been teaching me the importance of protecting your House; how important it is to safeguard the Realm. It’s not just about who lives in that moment, it’s about who’s been there in the thousands of years past, and who will be there in the thousands of years future.”

“Yes.” Jaime confirmed knowingly. “You have to think of _all of time_.”

“Mother would have sent the Seven Kingdoms into chaos. She would have burnt down House Lannister. Everything we’ve ever been. But more importantly—everything we could _ever be_.” He looked up at Jaime with clear, resolute eyes. “I protected my Kingdom, my House, my family. I _chose the future_.”

Jaime smiled sadly, but somehow simultaneously proud. “You acted like a king.”

“I am not proud of what I’ve done.” Tommen stood from his chair with a distinguished manner. “But I cannot say that if time repeated itself, I would not do it again.”

“See, not being proud of it? That makes you a good king, a moral king.” Jaime stood too, putting a hand on Tommen’s upper arm. “But the second part of what you said? That makes you a _true_ king.”

“I have to prepare for my mother’s funeral.” Tommen placed his hand over Jaime’s on his arm. “I realize you do not have warm or merciful feelings towards her at the moment,” he took a deep breath. “but…….do you plan on objecting to her being buried here at the Rock?”

Jaime was taken aback by the question, but responded truthfully. “I……I will do whatever will help ease your grief, Your Grace.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deandre sat on her bed, waiting—and trembling. She’d been in the seamstress’s workroom when she was found by a household guard and escorted back to room in the servant’s corridor. That same guard now stood outside her door.

She cried and nearly tore her hair out. Of course they would kill her for her role in giving the spice to Lady Sansa. She was just damn angry that she only got to live one glorious day in a world without Cersei Lannister before she died herself.

She also wondered what would happen to her girl. Would Ananya be safe? Or would she die along with her mother? Nobles punishing common people had been known to much worse for far less offense. She would beg for any torture upon herself if it would save her daughter. And if the worst was to come, she gave one last fleeting, miserable prayer that they could die together—so she could see her girl’s beautiful face one last time.

Just as she was imagining all the horrible ways she and her daughter could die, the door to her tiny room opened and Jaime Lannister walked in.

She immediately slipped off the bed and down to her knees, clasping her hands before her and lowering her head. “Lord Jaime, please accept me condolences for the loss of your sister.”

“Oh yes,” Jaime let out a small scoff. “What a _great_ loss it is.”

“My lord…..I…..I am ready to atone for my sins and accept whatever punishment is fit for my crime.” Deandre sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I freely admit to what I did, and will give you no trouble with the magistrate and whatnot—”

Jaime shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Deandre continued on with the practiced plea she’d worked out during her wait. “It’s my deepest regret, my deepest shame—and if the most severe punishment is needed to set Lady Lannister right again, to balance the pain I’ve caused your great House, then I am ready to die.”

“Deandre,” Jaime reached down to gently lift her chin with his two fingers. “Look at me.”

Deandre began to sob. “I only ask, I beg that you spare my girl, and get her someplace safe. See that she has some good in her life even after my death and—”

“STOP!” Jaime practically shouted. He then almost laughed.

Deandre’s sobs ceased immediately, and her mouth hung open in shock. “Lord Jaime?”

Jaime really did laugh this time. “As far as I’m concerned, any sin that was done to my wife……..died with my sister.”

Deandre’s eyes widened, and she shook her head as she gazed up at him. As she could do was repeat, “Lord Jaime?”

“You really think I could _end your life_?” Jaime smiled softly down at her. “The last thing you told me when you came clean with me was how you loved my wife so.” He brushed an askew strand of hair back from her face. “Well, Deandre, she loves you just the same.”

Deandre let out one last sob, but gave him a soft, watery smile in return. “She does?”

Jaime nodded. “My wife needs people in her life who love her, who would go to great lengths to protect her. If you can promise that you’ll be that for her from this day forth, then you’ll never have to worry that any harm will come to you by my hand, or on my order.”

“Lord Jaime!” Deandre laughed almost hysterically, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I promise, with everything I am. I’ll look out for her like she was my own!”

“Speaking of your own,” Jaime paused when he saw Deandre freeze at his words. He smiled warmly again. “As we speak, your daughter is being escorted to Casterly Rock under the guard of one of my dearest friends, Ser Addam Marbrand. She is in truly safe hands.”

“What?” Deandre whispered in shock before practically lunging at Jaime and kissing the fingers of his living hand. “Lord Jaime, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Jaime chuckled with joy. “She’ll be given a job with the laundry for now, but the seamstress says she might need more hands in a few moons, and that if she’s anything like you with cloth and thread, then—”

“Ah, Seven Blessings to you, Lord Jaime!” Deandre cried happily, standing and embracing him gratefully. “The Rock has never known a Lord and Lady as kind as you and Lady Sansa.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We’re really going to let that wretched woman’s body rest here at Casterly Rock?” Sansa asked softly, the gentle night breeze blowing through her hair as the stood out on their bedchamber’s balcony.

Jaime ambled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “We’re doing it for Tommen and Myrcella.”

“Alright then.” She turned her head to place a lingering kiss to his cheek. “For them.”

He put his chin to her shoulder. “And if we denied Cersei being interned at the Rock, it would raise suspicions as to how she died here.”

“I understand.” Sansa nodded thoughtfully, running her fingers over his at the nip of her waist. “So, she didn’t die naturally? You never did admit that to me.”

“I wouldn’t do you the dishonor of ever thinking you believed that she did.” He chuckled slightly.

Sansa craned her neck up to the bright stars shining in the clear night sky. “One day, when all is safe for everyone……will you tell me who it was?”

“Maybe one day, my love.” He nuzzled his face into her proffered neck. “Maybe one day.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two weeks after the royal party’s arrival, and one week after the internment of Cersei Lannister in the crypts of Casterly Rock, Jaime and Sansa were breaking their fasts in their solar, when Marine came in to find the Lord and Lady happy and laughing.

“Marine,” Sansa smiled and wiped plum juice from her chin. “Ser Addam will be arriving at Casterly Rock in less than a sennight. Are you feeling excited?”

Marine looked down to hide her wide grin, before schooling her face and answering evenly. “Yes, Lady Lannister. I am most looking forward to it.”

“As I’m sure Addam is, too.” Jaime smirked back at her. “Is there something you needed?”

Marine looked back towards the door with a subtle sigh. “Lord Tywin’s solar has been in an uproar all morning. He’s asked to see you.” She turned back with a lifted brow. “Both of you.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed. “About Cersei?”

“No, my lady. I don’t believe so.” Marine answered seriously. “Whatever it is, Lord Tywin’s playing it pretty close to his chest. Even the gossip in the halls seems to be uncertain what this is about.”

Jaime and Sansa rose from their table with a thank you to Lady Marine. They came to Tywin’s solar and found a royal guard standing at the door. Jaime turned a questioning glance to Sansa, who merely shrugged at the presence of the guard. The armored man gave them a cursory once-over before opening and announcing their arrival.

“Come in.” Tywin looked up over the edge of his parchment. He nodded to the two chairs before his table in an unspoken command to sit. He sat as well, staring at the two of them for several long moments.

“Father?” Jaime began shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“It seems that Ned Stark’s bastard and the long-lost Arya Stark have rallied the broken houses of the North against the Boltons,” Tywin threw the parchment down on the table. “and have retaken Winterfell.”

Sansa had to harness every ounce of willpower she had to keep a toothy grin off her face and a loud whoop from escaping her throat. She instead barely whispered, “Jon and Arya are back in Winterfell?”

“Did you have anything to do with that?” Tywin asked gruffly, staring straight at Sansa.

Jaime looked between his father and wife before taking Sansa’s hand firmly in solidarity and support. “Father, I can—”

“No, Jaime.” Sansa spoke to Jaime, but stared Tywin down in return. She squeezed her husband’s living hand. “I’ll answer that.”

“Fine.” Tywin nodded.

“Cersei allowed my father to be executed for something she knew wasn’t treason. You allowed me to be kept in King’s Landing as a hostage, as Joffrey and Cersei’s favorite thing to torture and torment—”

Tywin held up his index finger. “Now, I did not know the extent to which—”

“ _I’m_ speaking now!” Sansa stated firmly as she sat forward, eyes ablaze and never leaving Tywin’s form. “When I’m done, and if I feel so inclined to listen, you may defend yourself.”

Tywin’s eyes widened and he sat back in his chair, begrudgingly gesturing for her to continue.

“And you helped orchestrate a treachery that murdered by mother, brother, good-sister I’d never met, and unborn niece or nephew.” Sansa held up her hand preemptively to stave of Tywin’s response. “And yes, we _were at_ _war_ with each other…….but you didn’t end that war _on a battlefield_. Did you, Tywin?”

Tywin looked mildly incensed, but also a little chagrined, and more than a little impressed. “Did you ever answer my question, Lady Sansa?”

“I’ve always wanted to see my family back in Winterfell, and I’m physically restraining myself from dancing with joy at hearing the news that Jon and Arya are safe, and are at home as we speak.” Sansa sat back in her chair, folding her hands primly in her lap. “But wanting to see the safety and security of the House of my birth, did not cross the line of me committing treason against the House I married into.”

Jaime quirked a brow, brimming with pride for his wife. “If that is what you were asking, Father?”

“Jaime, I’ve offered you honesty these past few days, I want the same in return.” Tywin finally turned his eyes to his son. “I know you had some sort of—well, _something_ —with that beast of a woman from Renly’s old guard. And now, by all reports she’s at Winterfell guarding the other Stark girl.” He templed his fingers under his chin. “And I know you’ve communicated with Tyrion—don’t even try to deny it.”

Jaime gave his father a defiant look. “I won’t deny communicating with Tyrion. He’s my brother.”

“Well, now he acts as the unchained Maester of Castle Black.” Tywin pursed his lips in distaste. “And was sitting at the Bastard of Winterfell’s table as the lords of the North named him their king.”

Jaime and Sansa’s faces flinched in a sort of whiplash as Tywin spoke his last word. Sansa swallowed audibly and spoke with a suddenly parched mouth. “ _King in the North_?”

Tywin quirked a displeased brow. “Usurper in the North. Traitor in the North.”

“Maybe the people of the North felt pushed into it, Father.” Jaime face radiated displeasure back at him. “Since you—and then by your example, every other House in the south—seem woefully unwilling to acknowledge the threat that is barreling towards our kingdom from beyond the Wall.”

Tywin scoffed in disdain. “Fairytales and myths told to get the Northerners through their dreadfully dreary and gray lives.”

“We were told of the coming threat, Father. And we were told that the North felt they had to take drastic measures to defend themselves.” Jaime shook his head in irritation. “You recently lamented not noticing things until it was too late. Don’t let this be yet another thing that you refuse to see.”

“We knew not of Arya, Lord Tywin.” Sansa interjected, hoping to calm the two men. “No one involved would ever tell us something of that importance. Not in a raven that could be intercepted by your or the late Queen Mother’s Westerlands spies.”

“Well,” Tywin cleared his throat, an impressed gleam in his eye. “it’s nice to know the Lord and Lady of the Rock are smart enough to understand that their ravens are not always confidential.”

“You sent a traitor’s daughter to become Lady of Casterly Rock.” Jaime replied with a shrug. “Now, she’s become a great one—on level with _even Mother_ —but we weren’t stupid enough to think you’d ever let us forget how you really saw her.”

Tywin looked as if he’d swallowed poison, deep heaving breaths escaping his nose. “Now that the delicate matter of providing children for House Lannister has been resolved, I’m sure Lady Sansa will know for certain where her loyalty lies when she holds a Lannister babe in her arms.”

“Sansa has known for certain where her loyalty lies for a very long time.” Jaime uttered through clenched teeth, before continuing sarcastically. “But yes, thank you so much for all _you did_ to resolve the aforementioned ‘ _delicate matter’_ , Father.” He stood from his chair and held out his living hand to Sansa. “I think that’s enough for one morning, my love. Let’s go.”

Sansa took Jaime’s hand and rose from her chair as well, giving a half-hearted curtsy. “Lord Tywin.”

“One last thing, Lady Sansa.” Tywin’s face contorted at he took a shallow, hesitant breath. “Before the Battle of the Bastards, your brother was killed.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open, her hands trembled, and her already-porcelain face drained of all color. “But you just said Jon was named King in the North.”

“It was the other one, the youngest…….Rickon.” Tywin stated simply as he took another look at the parchment to ensure he got the name correct. “Apparently, Ramsey Bolton got a hold of him and murdered him just before the fighting began. Held him prisoner just to be used to taunt the Stark Bastard in some sort of sadistic game. It was sick, really. We never should have trusted anyone from that miserable House—they and the Freys were miscalculations. But war makes for strange bedfellows.” Tywin shook his head in disgust. “And it seems we were all wrong for so many years in believing that both your younger brothers were killed when the Ironborn burned Winterfell.”

Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut as all the air whooshed out of her lungs. She thought of her poor baby brother, suddenly overcome with a fresh way of grieving for a loss she’d thought she’d already grieved. She stood dumbstruck in the middle of Tywin Lannister’s solar.

“Thank you for telling us in such a _tactful and sensitive_ way, Father.” Jaime wrapped his arm around Sansa and pulled her into his side, kissing her temple as he glared daggers at Tywin. “I’m going to take Sansa back to our chambers where I’m assuming you’ll allow us time to freshly grieve for her little brother.”

_My little brother_. But did that mean?

Sansa dug her feet into the ground, stopping Jaime’s hasty departure. “What about my _other_ brother, Bran? Do we know that he _did_ die in the Burning of Winterfell? Is he still alive? Has anyone heard anything of him?”

Tywin looked taken aback at the audacity of Sansa’s rapid-fire questions, but he answered quickly. “No. No one’s heard anything of him. He was _the cripple_?”

Jaime winced, but answered softly. “Yes.”

“Well, even if he also survived the Ironborn, he wouldn’t still be alive now, would he?” Tywin responded flippantly. “In my experience, boys like him don’t live very long.”

Sansa felt her fist clench at her side and the steel return to her spine. She held her chin up high. “I don’t think you know too many boys like him.” She turned on her heel again and stomped with Jaime to the solar doors.

But before they were able to walk through, Tywin called out, “I hope I have your assurances that despite this new information, your allegiances _have_ not—and _will not_ —change?”

“You _do_ have that assurance, Father.” Jaime looked to Sansa, then nodded back to Tywin. “Neither my wife, nor myself, will do anything to help or support the newly re-formed House Stark.”

Jaime pulled Sansa out the door, shooting daggers at the royal guard who spied after the two of them as they walked far down the corridor.

When Sansa and Jaime got to the stairs leading to their chambers, they were halfway up when Jaime suddenly stopped his ascent and wrapped her against his chest, catching her in a long and passionate kiss.

“Come on, wonderful wife.” He gave Sansa a wide grin when he finally pulled his lips from hers. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Work?” Her eyes were dazed as she questioned breathlessly. “What work?”

He quirked a brow and entwined their fingers. “Work to help and support the newly re-formed House Stark, of course.”

 

 


	5. The Necessary Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jaime have what they've always wanted, but now comes a choice they must make in order to keep it safe.
> 
> Life in Westeros has always required sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, real life has been such a BITCH recently. If you're still reading even after the long delay, you have my deepest gratitude.

Jaime’s golden skin glowed and his green eyes twinkled as he walked along the battlements. “Okay now, this is the north ringfort tower. Do you know who built this?”

Miniscule wrinkles formed around the tiny emerald eyes that mirrored back at him as the little girl in his arms searched her mind for the right answer. “Danda?” She answered back, eyes widening in curiosity.

“No.” Jaime let out a loud laugh and kissed the strawberry-blonde curls on top of the girl’s head. “That tower has been here for thousands of years. I know Deandre is old, but she’s not _that old_.”

The girl put her little hand on Jaime’s cheek and smiled brightly. “Did Mama do?”

“No, Joanna.” He grinned back at her. “While it is true that your mother does most things here at Casterly Rock, she did _not_ build that tower.” Jaime laid a light kiss on her tiny nose. “That tower was built by Lann the Clever—who was the founder of House Lannister. _Our_ house.”

“Us?” Joanna’s brows lifted in surprise.

“Yes.” Jaime answered, nodding his head. “You are Lady Joanna Lannister, the _second_ Joanna Lannister. You were named after my mother, your grandmother. And people said she was the most beautiful woman in all the land.” He smiled cheekily. “But I think even your grandmother would agree that you are _more_ beautiful.”

Just then, a loud, happy screech echoed along the battlements, and Jaime turned with Joanna in his arms just in time to see a tiny blonde-headed body barreling toward them, with Sansa frantically running behind.

“Jason!” Sansa called out. “I _told you_ no running up here!”

Jaime reached out with his good hand and stopped the boy’s advance by putting a calming palm to the crown of his head. “Jason? Are you behaving for your mother?”

The little boy looked up with his Tully blue eyes and nodded in all seriousness. “Yes.”

“Uh-huh.” Jaime replied with teasing disbelief. “If your mother is yelling and chasing after you, I seriously doubt that is behaving.”

Sansa came up to the three of them and lifted Jason into her arms, letting out a frustrated breath while simultaneously kissing the little boy’s cheek. She looked at Jaime with a raised brow. “Why does it seem that you always get our sweet and _calm_ daughter, while I always get our sweet and _rambunctious_ son?”

“Because you are younger than I am and therefore have the energy to run after him all the time?” Jaime leaned over and placed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Uh-huh,” Sansa brushed her lips along his cheek to whisper in his ear. “you didn’t seem to be lacking in energy last night.”

Jaime leaned back and winked at her, giving a mischievous smirk as he remembered dragging her into their bedchamber the night before. “My energy surges when a great opportunity arises.”

Sansa let out a loud snort, then moved her admiring gaze along the great rock towers. “What are the two of you doing up here?”

Jaime looked lovingly at his two children. “Well, I was teaching Joanna about House Lannister.”

“Mama?” Joanna’s sweet voice piped up. “Did you knows that I _second Joanna_?”

Sansa gave her a kind smile, laughing softly before running a tender hand over the girl’s hair. “I did know that, sweetling.”

Jaime nodded to the boy in Sansa’s arms. “And Jason? Did you know that you’re named after your great-grandfather Ser Jason Lannister, who led a thousand knights and ten-thousand men to defend the Westerlands?”

“A knight?” Jason’s face broke into excited wonderment. “Can I be, Dada?’

“Of course.” Jaime grinned back at him.

Sansa’s lips twisted in displeasure at Jaime, before lifting Jason’s chin with her finger and giving him a stern look. “Let’s talk about you being a knight once you can get through the day without being cranky when you’ve missed your nap.” She placed a kiss on his cheek, then smiled at Joanna. “We came up here to find you because supper is ready. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah!” Both Jason and Joanna shouted happily.

“Yeah!” Jaime playfully added into the chorus.

 

 

 

 

“Little Lady,” Deandre cooed softly as she placed Joanna in her chair at the table in Sansa and Jaime’s solar. “Let’s put Dolly down while we eat.”

Joanna hugged the doll tighter to her chest. “Dolly hungy too.”

“Why don’t we give Dolly to Ananya.” Sansa smiled at Joanna, gesturing to Deandre’s daughter beside her. “And she’ll take Dolly to your nursery, so she can eat her supper too, and then after your bath you can tuck Dolly into bed.”

“Is alright, sweetling.” Ananya knelt before Joanna, holding out her arms with a soft smile. “You know I’sa gonna take good care’a Dolly.”

Joanna’s lower lip trembled slightly, but she placed the doll in Ananya’s arms. “Okay.”

Ananya left the room just as the serving girls brought in the platters of food. Jaime, Sansa and Joanna begin to fill their plates, but Jason had been glaring at Deandre for several moments, and now sat with his tiny arms crossed over his chest.

“ _No_ bath, Danda.” The child pouted at her.

Jaime groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Jason, not this again.”

“Every night, you pout ‘cause you don’t want no bath.” Deandre chuckled back at him, not fazed at all. “And yet, every night you get a bath, Little Lord.”

“The way you rolled around in the grass at the gardens today,” Sansa pursed her lips at her son. “you should get _two baths_ tonight.” She winked at Deandre. “What do you think, Deandre?”

“Two baths sure seems like somethin’ we could do, my lady.” The handmaiden-turned-nursemaid teased back.

“No.” The little boy replied, all his indignation deflating as he uncrossed his arms and reached for a piece of bread. “Just _one bath_.”

“Well, alright.” Sansa shook her head playfully, shooting Deandre a cunning look. “I suppose we could just give you _one_ bath.”

The family of four began eating, with Deandre close by to wipe the faces of the two children if need be. Halfway through the meal, Jaime spoke, looking at his son.

“Jason, I’ve had Ser Benedict make you a wooden sword.” Jaime grinned proudly. “Tomorrow after your nap, if Deandre says you’ve behaved, we’ll practice in the yard.”

“Yay!” Jason squealed jubilantly to the ceiling, his baby teeth on display as he grinned back.

“Jaime!” Sansa gave her husband a cross look. “He’s just had his second nameday. That’s _too young_ to be working with swords—even wooden ones.”

“Sansa, love.” He tried to comfort, popping a grape into his mouth. “My father had me swinging a sword even _before_ my second nameday.”

“And you’re looking to Tywin Lannister for examples of proper parenting?” Sansa shook her head in irritation before concluding sarcastically, “Well, then, I instantly feel _so much_ better.”

“You’re already showing Joanna how to sew, Sansa.” Jaime reached out to the chair beside him and lovingly tapped his daughter’s chin.

“That is totally different!” Sansa responded through clenched teeth, pushing back from her plate.

Jaime threw up a hand. “Why?”

“Because embroidering won’t possibly get her _killed one day_!!” Sansa snapped, shouting into the solar and shocking all in the room.

Jason’s stunned eyes moved back and forth between his parents. Joanna’s tiny lip began to tremble at the unusual anger appearing in the room, and her eyes glossed over with tears. Deandre leaned in and wrapped her up in her arms, with Sansa reaching out to lay a soothing hand on her back, shushing her frightened daughter.

Jaime put his napkin on the table, his face thoughtful and apologetic. “I should have spoken to you,” he admitted quietly. “before I made the decision.”

“No,” Sansa continued rubbing Joanna’s back, but turned her contrite eyes to Jaime. “I overreacted. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“If it’s alright by you,” Deandre began in a soft voice to Sansa, her cheek still resting on the crown of Joanna’s head. “I could take the little ones to the kitchen. I think the baker has made some lemoncakes.”

“Can we, Mama?” Jason pleaded with big eyes.

Sansa let out a deep sigh, then gave the children a watery smile. “Yes, sweetling.”

Sansa and Jaime both kissed their children and watched them leave the solar, each clutching Deandre’s hand.

“Sansa.” Jaime began softly, reaching out to take her hand. “You’ve been troubled lately, and—”

“Ser Roderick Cassel once said that Robb was the best swordsman he’d ever seen,” Sansa began, covering her eyes as her lady-like demeanor wilted, leaving her slumped in her seat. “sometimes, I wonder, if my brother had been a little less proficient, a little less proud—would he have been a little more careful? Would he still be alive?”

Jaime nodded sadly. “But these thoughts didn’t just come from out of nowhere.”

“It’s the last raven from Jon.” Sansa lowered her hand, but her eyes still only looked to her lap. “They’re training every man, woman _and child_ ……to defend the North.” An errant tear ran down her cheek. “Jason’s just a babe, he still needs me to sing him to sleep. The thought of him—”

Jaime brought Sansa’s hand to his lips. “Love, it’s _not_ Jason. And you know Jon is only training the children so that they can _defend themselves_. He would never put them on the frontlines of a battle.”

“Winter is here. Father always told us it was coming. And I was a Stark, so I was never afraid of what that meant.” Sansa took in a trembling breath. “But it’s _the other_ …….it’s coming.” She spoke despondently. “I can feel it coming, Jaime.”

“I can too.” Jaime rose and moved to the chair closest to her. He pressed his forehead to hers and they sat like that for several long moments. Finally, his dry throat rasped, “It’s time, Sansa.”

She pulled back, shock radiating from her face as she knew what he was referring to. “Already?”

“Yes.” Jaime nodded, again pressing a kiss to her palm. “The gold and other supplies we’ve been sending Winterfell these last three years have helped the Northern cause, but Bran has become more certain in his visions. My love, the war is almost upon us—they need _soldiers._ ”

Sansa sat in a slight daze, her mind sorting through the dozens of ravens they’d received over the last few moons. “At least half of the Westerlands Houses will be with us—I can think of the Leffords, Marbrands, Swyfts, Brooms, Westerlings—that is almost fifteen thousand men.”

“They’ll need commanders as well.” Jaime turned his face from her, not able to bear the sight of her blue eyes as he whispered, “It has to be me, darling.”

Sansa reached out to softly nudge his jaw so that their eyes met again. She smiled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “I know.”

“There are things that I must atone for…….” Jaime swallowed harshly, eyes brimming with tears. “Sins that I committed—sins that I committed _in Winterfell_ —and nothing short of _saving Winterfell_ could wipe those sins clean.”

Sansa pressed kisses all over his face. “You were a deeply flawed man the last time you were at Winterfell.” She chuckled softly, tasting his tears on her lips. “And while I won’t go so far as to say that all your flaws have been fixed—you are _not_ the man you were then. Bran has seen it himself. He sees all of time—past, present, sometimes future—and he _knows who you are now_. You are a good man.” She pulled back, now weeping herself. “Jaime……you gave me back my heart. You saved my life.”

“No.” His thumb brushed away the trail of tears as he stroked her cheek. “You saved mine.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she wrapped hers around his waist, and they held each other for a long time. Until their tears had dried, and the nightingale began to sing outside their open windows.

“How long will it take to gather the forces?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his collarbone.

“About a moon.” He spoke into her silky hair. “The loyal Houses have known for some time that this was on the horizon, and they’ve been preparing. Our Lannister guards could leave within a sennight, but it will take longer for the other banners to rendezvous here at the Rock.”

“This is in direct defiance of your father’s wishes.” She nestled her cheek into his neck. “Or should I say in defiance of King Tommen’s wishes as dictated by your father.”

“My father is a stubborn, obtuse fool. Everyone knows something terrible is on the way, even as far south as the Reach and in Dorne, they are preparing for it.” He pulled back and shook his head determinedly. “I will not allow the Army of the Dead to crush the Westerlands into dust simply because we refused to act.”

Her mouth formed a sly, slow smirk. “It will feel nice to be a proper traitor again.”

He grinned proudly back at her, before growing serious again and nervously rubbing his thumb into her palm. “There is another reason it must be done.”

She blinked rapidly, but nodded for him to continue. “Tell me.”

“Tyrion has already allied with Varys to bring the Dragon Queen over to the cause, and she is now in Winterfell with her forces.” Jaime sat back in his chair, anxiety and foreboding showing on his face. “Nearly a hundred-thousand men, and at least two dragons—maybe three, but the reports have been sketchy about what’s happened to the third.”

“Well, this is good news for our combined forces against the Night King.” Sansa smiled, unsure of why this pained her husband.

“It is said that Daenerys Stormborn has a preternatural way of earning respect and inspiring loyalty in those who serve her.” Jaime ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s something that the reign of King Tommen, First of His Name, has never been able to claim. Even with his goodness and decency, his rule has never been viewed as infallible. Fear of my father has been what’s keeping it all together, and that will only last so long if his refusal to address the coming threat costs people their lives.”

A look of awe graced Sansa’s face as she realized his plan. “You’re thinking _beyond_ the War for the Dawn.”

Jaime nodded. “The Iron Throne is her ultimate goal. If lending her substantial forces to fight the Army of the Dead, makes the difference in defeating the Night King and saving the entire continent—then if she survives, I can’t foresee any outcome except her winning the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You’re hoping that adding Lannister forces to the alliance will earn you a favor.” Sansa concluded softly.

“Tyrion was hesitant when Varys contacted him at Castle Black asking for a pledge to Daenerys’ cause.” Jaime chuckled, thinking back to reading his brother’s letter. “He thought the eunuch somehow had a little crush. But apparently, Varys’ devotion was justly earned.”

“And Tyrion has come around to Varys’ way of thinking?” Sansa lifted a curious brow.

Jaime nodded again. “He thinks she’ll do it—win the Iron Throne. What’s more, he thinks she is just what Westeros needs.” He let out a breath and his eyes slid shut. “With Tyrion pledging his service to her, and me pledging our forces to the fight…….Tyrion and I think that will be enough.”

Sansa laid a soft hand on Jaime’s cheek. “To save Tommen’s life?”

“If we do this _now_ , then after we have won the War for the Dawn, and she goes on to win the Iron Throne,” Jaime leaned into her touch. “Tyrion and I will ask that she allow Tommen and Margaery to abdicate peacefully and retire to Highgarden, with Myrcella staying safe in Dorne.”

“And your father?”

Jaime shook his head in defeat. “Father will never give up control without a fight. I care not what happens to Father.” Jaime looked at her again, his eyes pleading for her to understand. “I fight for the safety of my children— _all of_ my children.”

“Of course you do.” Sansa smiled in admiration and leaned into him, ducking her head underneath his chin. “That is precisely why I love you.” She laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. “When you go………I’ll be going with you.”

There was a long, heavy silence that hung in the air of the room.

Sansa finally sat back up with a quirked brow. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Would it do _any good_?” His brow quirked to match hers, and he placed a kiss on her palm. “When you make your mind up…….” He shook his head, chuckling slightly. “I always knew if Lord Lannister made the choice to lead our forces to the North, that Lady Lannister would be riding beside him.”

Sansa stared directly into his eyes with a fierce resolve, but then her face began to crumple, and a sob escaped her lungs. “ _Our babes_ , Jaime. We’ll have to leave our beautiful children behind.”

“Yes, love.” He took her fully into his arms, holding her tightly. “We can’t take them to Winterfell.” He pressed a kiss to her temple as tears formed in his own eyes. “But this is the sacrifice we must make. And if we don’t do this, _nowhere_ will be safe for them……for _anyone_. We’re doing this to protect them, their present and their future.”

Sansa pulled back, nodding and wiping her cheeks. “We’ll send a raven to the Marbrands?”

“Tomorrow at first light.” He nodded in return.

 

 

 

 

Jaime penned the raven he was to send to Ser Addam at dawn the next day, left it on his desk and exited his study to make his way to the nursery. The door was open, so he stood in the doorway and peered inside, finding his twins dozing as they nestled in Sansa’s rocking arms.

Seated in the rocking chair next to the hearth, Sansa took turns burying her nose in their strawberry-golden hair. He could understand the fixation, nothing smelled sweeter than the soft hair of his babes after they had their baths. He heard Sansa’s gentle voice singing.

 

_Wherever is your heart, I call home._

_Wherever is your heart, I call home._

_And though your feet may take you far from me, I know._

_Wherever is your heart, I call home._

 

Jaime walked into the room and knelt at Sansa’s chair. He gestured to Jason, who laid limp and snoring against Sansa’s chest, and lifted the boy into his arms, carrying him to bed.

Joanna, having her arms tightly locked around Sansa’s neck, stayed safely in her mother’s embrace until Sansa rose from the chair and laid her in her tiny bed across from Jason’s.

The parents then switched beds and kissed their other child’s cheek, making sure they were tucked in, warm and cozy.

Sansa and Jaime walked to the door, and Jaime was just about to close it when Sansa turned around and gazed longingly at the two precious, sleeping children.

“We’re doing this for them.” She whispered into the night.

Jaime reached down and gently took her hand. “I know it seems entirely contradictory, but Sansa, this time, leaving them is what a good parent would do.”

She leaned into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, and they stayed watching over their sleeping babes until the fire in the hearth began to die.

 

 

 

 

Seven days later, the Marbrands arrived at Casterly Rock. And once the flurry of Sansa seeing Lady Marine again had died down, Jaime and Ser Addam stood in the Lord’s Study, going over the logistics of moving their forces north to Winterfell.

“The Marbrand forces are now encamped with the Brooms at Lannisport, with the Leffords and the Swyfts arriving in a fortnight,” Ser Addam informed, looking at the map of Westeros spread out on the desk. “We determined it would be better to have the Westerlings stay put, and rendezvous with them as you make your way north.”

Jaime rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead. “The Lannisport Lannisters have remained loyal to my father and will not join Casterly Rock’s forces.” He sat heavily in his chair. “They have, however, pledged to remain neutral and not infringe on Casterly Rock’s sovereignty while I am away.”

Addam narrowed his eyes at his old friend. “It should be _me_ who is going, in your place.”

“No.” Jaime shook his head. “The man who _pledged_ the Lannister forces, must _lead_ the Lannister forces. It’s not just about adding soldiers to the fight. Banners from all over Westeros have banded together, and for Lannister forces to be among them, it shows that we are unified in our fight to save our home.”

“Are you sure the Northman won’t kill you the moment you’re north of the Neck?” Addam only half-joked.

“Desperation to save all that you hold dear, allows a man to forgive any multitude of injustices.” Jaime nodded resolutely as he looked over the markers spread out on the map. “But that’s part of the reason…..it may appear superficial, but it’s important to the morale of the fight that a once former enemy of the North _be_ _seen_ fighting in the North _, for the North._ And it’s important that Sansa shows that she is with _both her Houses_ —the one she was born into, and the one she married into.”

“I’m a better fighter than you, though.” Addam teased without insult. “ _Old Golden Hand_.”

Jaime laughed loudly. “I can ride. I can command. And if pressed, my left hand is still capable of running a sword through a mindless wight.”

Addam nodded, lips quirking. “I’m only jesting, even without your sword hand, you’re still a better knight than most of these idiots who have managed to receive the Seven Oils.”

Jaime took the wooden lion figurine that marked Casterly Rock from off the map, holding it thoughtfully in his hand. His eyes held a plea as he looked at his friend. “You do understand that I’m entrusting you with a duty more important than _any_ you might find on a battlefield?”

“I do, my friend.” Addam nodded back in the same seriousness, laying a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “Casterly Rock will be safe in my hands, and Marine and I will love your children, protect your children, with everything we are.”

“Sansa was happy to see Marine and your little one within the walls of the Rock.” Jaime observed with a sly look, remembering how Sansa had fawned over the little girl in Marine Marbrand’s arms when they’d arrived in the courtyard. “I do believe our wives intend to marry your daughter to my son one day.”

Addam snorted good-naturedly. “They’ve been plotting that betrothal since my Mirabelle was just a newborn in her cradle. Who knows, perhaps Mirabelle can forge a lasting bond with your children while we are living here in your absence.”

Jaime stood and walked around the edge of the desk. With the map laid out on it, his movements followed along the southwest edge of Westeros. His lungs took a deep enough breath that it caused his back to straighten severely.

“If the worst were to happen, and our forces in the North are defeated,” Jaime leaned back over the desk. “if you feel the Westerlands are about to be overcome, _do not_ depend on what many believe is the unconquerability of the Rock to stand against the Army of the Dead.”

Addam narrowed his eyes. “You have a plan of action?”

“If you feel the Rock—and more widely, Lannisport—is in danger,” Jaime ran his fingers over the boats drawn on the map along the shore of the Sunset Sea. “you are to get as many souls as you can onto the Lannister fleets and any Lannisport fishing boats, and sail down along the shoreline of the Reach, to the Redwyne stronghold of the Arbor………where Lady Olenna Tyrell has offered us refuge on the island.”

“That old bat is still _alive_?” Addam chuckled ruefully.

Jaime shook his head with the same humor. “Something tells me even if Westeros is overrun by wights and White Walkers, _that old bat_ will still find a way to hold on.”

 

 

 

 

 

Jaime’s good hand clenched desperately into the milky-white skin of Sansa’s hip, while her fingernails scratched deep into his muscular back and the face that had been buried into the crook of his neck turned so that her teeth could ardently sink into the flesh of his shoulder.

“Ah, oh love.” He groaned into the semi-dark of their bedroom. “Oh, fuck, Sansa.”

She rolled her hips harder down into his, and her head fell back, causing the tips of her hair to tickle his thighs. “Deeper, Jaime. Deeper, please.”

He pushed off his seated position and pressed her back flat on their bed, then moved to hover over her. Before he laid his body on top of hers, he reached out with his good hand to brush away strands of her hair that still laid stuck against her flushed and sweaty face. Her eyes shone brightly in the light of the nearby hearth.

“Anything I had before you…….it was never really mine. Even _I_ was never really my own.” He leaned down to brush a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re my everything. You’ve given me _everything_.”

She reached up to cup his cheek with a tender but trembling hand. “Jaime, I need you to promise me………” she trailed off, biting her lip nervously. “Sometimes people live with guilt—I know what that is, how that feels—and sometimes they get it into their heads that the only true way to get right with what they’ve done……is to lay down their lives.”

“Sansa.” He began to soothe, sneaking his head down to brush his lips over her nipple while hooking his fingers into the bend of her knee.

But she held up her hand to regain his attention. “You have to promise me that you won’t _do that_. I would understand if you die with worth in the heat of battle—it would _utterly destroy me_ , but I would understand it.” Her bottom lip began to quiver, tears forming in her eyes. “But you have to swear to me, swear on the lives of our children, that you won’t do anything to intentionally………” she had to stop and clench her eyes shut at the very thought.

“I swear on every god that anyone has ever prayed to, I swear with my very heart and soul.” He placed soft kisses on her eyelids. “ _Lovely wife_ , everything I do, that I have _ever done_ since I fell in love with you, is so that I can stay with you—and now with our children—forever and always. I would never intentionally do anything that would take me away from you.”

She nodded up at him and pulled his body down, every inch of his bare skin now pressed against every inch of hers. She ran her hands through his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp. He let out a deep rasp and tenderly ran his teeth along the edge of her jaw before sinking back inside her.

She moaned low in her throat as he again slid into the deepest parts of her. “I’m going to miss Casterly Rock so much.”

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, every soul that lived and worked in Casterly Rock stood in several presentable and proud lines throughout the great courtyard. Addam and Marine Marbrand stood at the front of the group, with little Jason and Joanna Lannister standing between them. Deandre and Ananya stood in the line right behind them.

Jaime strode out of the castle halls dressed in his finest armor. The second of the Valyrian steel swords that had been reforged from the Stark ancestral sword, which Tywin had given to Joffrey and which found its way into Jaime’s possession after the monstrous king’s death, now hung from his side—renamed _Golden Wolf_.

A step behind him, Sansa walked out dressed in a riding gown draped in a mixture of red and gold. But her cloak, which she and Deandre had been working on for at least a fortnight, was gleaming silver velvet with ermine fringe—and stitched on its back was a roaring yellow lion standing side by side with a snarling gray direwolf.

Jaime and Sansa came to stand directly in front of Addam and Marine. Jaime rubbed his chin. “I’ve given you the necessary instructions, but besides what I’ve told you, Casterly Rock is yours to rule as you see fit.”

Sansa smiled sadly. “We know you’ll take care of it, dear friends.”

“We will.” Addam nodded firmly.

“We swear it.” Marine’s voice faltered for a moment before she again straightened to her lady-like visage. “We will.”

The Lannisters then knelt before their children, who were trying to stand proud—and stand still—in the midst of a scene they did not quite understand.

“Little ones,” Sansa barely made it through the first two words before her voice broke. “This is what we’ve been talking to you about…….about your father and I needing to leave. To go back to the place where I was born, to see your Aunt Arya, and Uncle Jon and Uncle Bran.”

Joanna rubbed a tiny fist along her forehead, as if the news was hard to grasp. “You be back soon?”

Sansa’s head fell to her chest, so Jaime knew he had to take over. “No, sweetling. We won’t be back soon. It could be a long time before we see you again.” He reached over to take the hand of his now-trembling wife. “You need to listen to Lady Marine and Ser Addam, they’ll take good care of you. And you need to behave for Deandre the same as if Mama and I were still here.”

Jason’s little eyes crinkled, his lips forming a small pout. “We was bad? That why you go?”

Deandre moved forward to place gentle hands on the twin’s backs, just as Sansa felt tears falling down her cheeks. She shook her head, smiling proudly at her children. “No, sweetling. You did nothing wrong. You’re the most wonderful, beautiful little things in our lives. Your father and I love you so very much, and it’s so hard for us to go—”

“Then NO go, Mama!” Jason’s face contorted in pain, tears beginning to fall down his face.

“You stay!” Joanna shouted from beside him, her face getting red as her lips trembled. “You and Dada stay!”

“We can’t, my love.” Sansa cried, taking Joanna in her arms and pressing their foreheads together. “Please know that, darling. We _have to go_ to protect you—so that you and your brother and Dada and me can all live happy at Casterly Rock for a very long time.”

“NO!” Joanna’s tiny arms flailed with her tiny fists landing hard on Sansa’s chest. “NO! You stay!”

“Joanna, stop.” Jaime tried to stop his little girl’s movements, but only succeeded in getting a few punches as well. “Please, love.”

Joanna’s face was bright red as she turned it upward to wail to the sky, tears streaming down her cheeks. While Jason stood with tiny fists rubbing his eyes as he wept too. “Dada, Mama…..Nooooooo.”

Jaime stood, his face contorted in utter misery as Jason clung to his legs, and he looked down to see Sansa crying into Joanna’s hair. Finally, Addam placed a gentle hand on top of Jason’s head and leaned closer to speak into Jaime’s ear.

“This isn’t going to get any easier. We’ll keep trying to tell them.” He sighed heavily, thoughtfully. “Jaime, we’ll tell them _every day_. And eventually they’ll understand why you had to do this—but they _won’t understand_ _today_.”

Marine came over to Sansa and Joanna, touching Sansa’s arms that were still wrapped around her daughter. “Sansa, Addam is right. This was never going to be anything but horrible.” She tenderly touched Sansa’s cheek. “Go now. And know that we’ll take care of your children.”

Sansa let go of her hold on Joanna and allowed Marine to pull the weeping child away, with Joanna’s arms and legs kicking out into the air. “Joanna, Jason, we love you.” She cried, wiping her cheeks.

“We love you so much.” Jaime nodded fervently, crouching to kiss his crying son’s forehead. “And we’ll see you again, we promise. Dada and Mama promise.”

“NO go, Mama, Dada.” Jason wailed, hiccups wracking his little chest.

Joanna was still fighting, squirming in Marine’s arms. “You stay, Mama! You stay, Dada! Stay here! Stay!”

Deandre helped Marine try to control Joanna. “Little Lady, stop. Stop, my sweet dears.” Finally, she reluctantly looked to Sansa. “Maybe we should take them inside? It might be best if they don’t see you leave.”

Sansa turned her despondent gaze to Jaime, but finally nodded, covering her mouth to keep the sob from escaping her lungs. Ananya came over to take Jason up in her arms, and Deandre was finally able to pull a squirming Joanna close enough to her chest to get her to calm down. They both took a few steps toward the castle before Deandre stopped and turned, walking back to where she was face to face with Sansa.

“I love those babes like they was my own blood.” Tears filled the older woman’s eyes as she stroked a whimpering Joanna’s hair. “Ain’t no harm gonna to come to them while me and my girl still have breath in our bodies.”

Sansa leaned in and kissed Deandre’s temple. “I believe it. Thank you, dear lady.”

Jaime and Sansa watched them walk away, and eventually the sounds of their weeping, screaming children began to fade. But the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock now made their way to their horses with deflated hearts and exhausted bodies.

A stable boy came over to help Sansa onto her horse, and Marine moved beside it to gaze up at her. “We’ll see you at the Rock again, my friend. I _know_ it.” She reached up and squeezed Sansa’s hand. “Godspeed, Lady Sansa of Houses Stark and Lannister.”

“The way you know the high regard in which I hold you, is that I’m entrusting you _with my children_.” Another tear dropped down Sansa’s cheek, and she wiped it away with her gloved fingers. “Tell them that I….that I will _always_ —"

“Your children _already know_.” Marine interrupted resolutely, patting the mane of Sansa’s horse. She smiled up at Sansa. “Nevertheless, I will tell them every day.”

Addam was holding onto the reins as Jaime sat high on his horse. He grinned sadly as he put them into Jaime’s good hand. “You’re too much of an ornery bastard to die, Lannister. So, I know you’ll be back.” He gave a somber nod. “Until then, know that every drop of blood that you and your wife would give for this place, for these people………me and my wife would do the same.”

Jaime grasped his friend’s hand. “There is no one else I’d trust more with the task.”

Jaime and Sansa moved their horses around so that they could survey the household standing at attention before them. Dozens and dozens of eyes staring forlornly up at them.

“Casterly Rock is now in the hands of Lord and Lady Marbrand.” Jaime spoke loudly into the courtyard. “Please show them the same care and deference that you have shown us.”

“We thank you all for your service over the years. And we hope to see you all again.” Sansa smiled at them all, lowering her head in respect. “No matter how far away we find ourselves, we will see Casterly Rock in our dreams.”

“We will only return when the threat has been eliminated and continent is safe once again. So, when you pray to the Seven,” Jaime continued somberly. “do not just pray for myself and Lady Lannister …….but for us all.”

 

 

 

 

 

They made good time and traveled far that first morning. Sansa kept looking back, comforted to see the heights of Casterly Rock still in view. But as their horses and men continued to travel, she found her heart sinking at finding that same landmark growing smaller and smaller in the skyline.

They traveled over a large hill, and it was then she noted that her home was no longer visible. Her eyes clenched shut in sorrow, with the upper half of her body slumping in her saddle and her hold on the reins slackening. She felt Jaime’s leg brush against her own and opened her eyes, righting herself when she saw the concern etched on his face. Jaime raised his hand to motion to the captain of the guard.

“Lady Lannister needs respite.” He called out.

“No, Jaime.” Sansa spoke in defense of herself, not wanting to seem delicate to the men marching across half the continent. “Really, I’m fine, I just—”

“It’s not up for debate, Sansa.” He shook his head, pointing over to a grassy knoll off the side of the road and speaking to the approaching captain. “There is a creek past that ridge, we’ll give the men a chance to refill their canteens, water the horses, and let the mounted soldiers stretch their legs.”

“Yes, Lord Lannister.” The man replied before racing off to instruct the rank and file.

Jaime set his horse off into a gallop up the knoll, giving Sansa no choice but to follow him at the same speed off into the fair distance. He was still faster than her, and she momentarily lost sight of him before easing her sorrel-coated horse down into a trot when she saw his white horse drinking from the cool water of the stream.

She saw Jaime’s figure turned away from her, leaning with his back against a nearby tree. She stopped her horse and jumped off, her boots hitting the moss on the embankment of the creek. She began to laugh as she walked up behind him.

“You know I’m not as good on a horse as you are,” she began with a smirk he couldn’t see yet. “you race off like that and your poor, pretty wife will get left in the wind, and you—”

She stopped suddenly when she reached him and turned, her face falling instantly. Her strong, gentle husband was slumped against the tree, weeping with his good hand pressed against his chest over his heart. He was trying to take several deep gulps of air.

“We left them.” He whispered to her, barely able to form the words. “We left them.”

“Shh, shh. My love, Jaime.” She immediately wrapped her arms around him, pulling his cheek to her breast and running soothing fingers into his hair. “Stop. You did what was right, we both did what was _right_.” She pulled his face to hers. “They’ll cry their eyes out tonight—and so will we—but when they’re both still alive twenty years from now……they’ll thank us.”

“I don’t know if I can save them.” He shook his head, still weeping. “I’m not brilliant like Tyrion, or ruthless like Cersei and Father. What am I, I’m not sure that can be of any use—”

“You’re good! You’re brave! You love with your whole heart and you don’t hold anything back!” She laid kisses all over his face. “And even though I begged you just last night not to give up your life for guilt, I know you’d lay down your life to protect anyone you loved.” She smiled at him with tears brimming in her own eyes. “If you ask me, I think _those_ are the qualities that will help us defeat the Night King.”

He gave her a watery laugh, straightening slightly. “You’ve always believed that I was better than I truly am.”

“Actually, there were many years where that definitely _wasn’t true_.” She responded with a sly grin. “But I believe now that you are the best man I’ve ever known.” She brought his face back to hers, pressing a long, lingering kiss to his lips. And his strength had miraculously returned when she pulled back from it. “I believe that just as strongly as I believe that we will _see our children again_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who can spot the David Lynch's DUNE shout-out, gets a box of lemoncakes!


End file.
